One Safe Place
by workNprogress
Summary: Leave him," he said quietly. His chest tightened, realizing how easily that slipped out. He slowly drug his thumb across the back of her hand to distract himself. And her. "Leave her," she replied. Post-The Softer Side. House/Cameron unique relationship.
1. Painlessness Changes Everything

Author's Note: This is established House/Cuddy and Chase/Cameron but I promise it's nothing that will make the Hameron fans gag. If a cheating House and Cameron bother you, turn around now. Other than that, read and review, and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own House (not for lack of trying) or anything else. I'm just a lowly writer bowing before the House writing team's awesomeness.

Chapter 1 Painlessness Changes Everything

"I hear you almost died today."

His his helmet froze mid-air above his head.

"That's not why I wrote you that prescription," she added.

"I thought you couldn't see me tonight." He hung his helmet off the handlebar and turned towards her. She walked into the alley where he sat on his bike.

"I couldn't."

He noticed she still had her pink scrubs on underneath her coat. She'd never even bothered to zip it up.

"I told Chase I had to cover someone else's shift." She stepped closer.

"But I couldn't play the good girlfriend after knowing what happened today."

She stepped under the circle of light and whistled.

"So that's who I've been sleeping next to all this time? Jeez, remind me to get drunk next we hop in the sack."

"Been there. Done that. You stole my t-shirt."

She came closer, lifted her hand, and lightly rubbed his naked cheek. His skin was cool and smooth...and it weirded her out just a little to see him so...normal. She felt a tiny prick of sadness at the thought of not feeling his scruff against the back of her neck.

He let her study him without taking offense. He only stared back. Searching. Waiting for the "What the HELL were you THINKING?!" rant.

"You wanna go in for a drink?" Cameron nodded towards the bar they were next to. He shook his head.

"I can't," he said.

She nodded. She was still ashamed that she caved so easily. It seemed like she could never ignore his pleas, no matter how insane.

She dropped her hand and noticed his cane holster was empty.

"Where's your cane?"

"It dumped me...for the dumpster across the street from Louie's. It needed space," he paused. "We wanted different things."

A whisper of a laugh slipped out. His answer wasn't too far from the truth. He did have an attachment to his cane but she wasn't going to bring that up tonight. She just glad to see him here, in this alley and not lying on a bed looking like warm-over death. The need to touch vibrated between them.

This wouldn't last. It couldn't last. Not with him. She shoved the thought away and reached for his hand.

"Leave him," he said quietly. His chest tightened, realizing how easily that slipped out. He slowly drug his thumb across the back of her hand to distract himself. And her. She looked away.

"Leave her," she said to the ground.

"You don't get to change the rules just because you feel like you've changed." she said calmly. "I haven't."

He dropped her hand. "So I'm just some blow-up doll you pull out when Wonder Boy is off pulling late shifts?" he bit out.

"And What am I? Huh? Just a heater for your leg when you've pissed Cuddy off and don't want to pay for a hooker to hold you?" She turned away and grabbed her head in frustration. "No, no, no." She faced him. "This is the best I can do. You just gotta accept that."

"What, I'm 'sposed to whine and whimper for scraps of you?" God, that sounded horrible even to his own ears. He wasn't supposed to be here doing this. This is an argument Wilson would have. An argument her and Chase would have, not him. He didn't do bleeding emotion but he couldn't stop it from coming out.

He squeezed his cane-hand out of habit, aching for the smooth comfort of the wood. To feel some sense of normalcy.

She hugged herself against the chill. _It's all I have from you,_ pushed at her teeth. She walked over to the lightpost and leaned against it.

"What wrong with you an Cuddy?"

"She's not a factor in this," he said shaking his cane arm.

"House, you're sleeping with her."

"I'm sleeping with you too."

"Yeah but we ONLY sleep."

True, they weren't sleeping together, in the biblical sense. He just needed...fuck he didn't know what he needed. She just made things easier. Feeling her pulse under his chin, her hands in his hair; in ways he refused to reflect on, she made it...hurt less somehow. Until it began to hurt more knowing who she was going home to.

"If you're worried about Chase, don't be. He probably already knows anyway."

Her head whipped towards him with hot shame thumping in her ears.

"What do you really want from me?"

_You. In my bed and knowing your going to stay there and not dash off every time your phone goes off,_ he thought. He turned towards the bike and leaned on it heavily. Immediately she went into doctor-mode.

"Are you okay, is it your leg?" she pushed out in a rush.

He laughed bitterly and looked over his shoulder at her. Always worried about him. Always ready to lift him up. Always never his.

"No." He swung his leg back on his bike. "My leg is fine which I know deprives you of florence nightingale impulses."

"House, I-" she began. He cut her off by turning the engine on. She restrained from grabbing him like she wanted. She hated this, when he shut down and she couldn't reach him. Right when she was used to having his attention, he would rip it away again. She turned to walk away when she heard him shout behind her. "She left for a conference today. She'll be gone for a few days." He flipped the visor down and revved the engine.

She turned to tell him she understood but he shot past her in a haze of orange and leather.

It wasn't that she didn't want to leave Chase, she just...she was scared. Somehow she couldn't fix her mind to accept he was really being genuine. With him there was always a landmine she stepped on that blew them apart, and she knew she would suffer more when he got tired of her.

'It's just survivor's high,' she told herself.

She walked to her car to follow him.

----------------

TBC


	2. Is It Real?

Chapter 2 Is It Real?

knock...knock

It had to be her. Not even Wilson had such a wussy knock.

He got up from the piano, slightly limping to the door. He opened it to find her leaning against the door frame.

"Hi," she smiled.

She was always leaning on things around him. His desk, a wall in the clinic, whatever flat surface was available. During her fellowship she always sat ramrod straight, ever the diligent student. Now her bad posture was just one of the many things that had changed about her since she left.

The first time he ever saw her slouch was their first night together. They were sharing a drink in his office after losing patient. More like she grabbed the bottle out of his hand and took one large unlady-like gulp. Then she flopped onto his couch, head slumped forward, and stared mute at the floor.

"I lost a patient," she'd said a moment later.

"Same here," he replied.

And somehow, after a whole bottle of whiskey, they wound up in a motel room wrapped in scratchy blankets and each next day passed in silence and avoidance. He told Cuddy he slept in his office. She told Chase she fell asleep in an on-call room. Thus, the arrangement began. Intimacy without obligation. She would text him when she could slip away. He always found a way to be available. He found he felt freer with himself when nothing was demanded of him. She never got upset and over the lack of sex and neither did he. She was fine if they slept cocooned together or on opposite sides of the bed, she just wanted him there. He just wanted to be.

He held the door open with his arm extended so she would have to step underneath it. Her hand slid across his back as she passed.

She threw her coat on the couch. His pants dropped with a loud thump from his belt buckle. She toed her shoes off with a soft _thwip_. His button-down landed with a _swish _on the piano. She saved hers for him to take off. They continued shedding clothes carelessly on the way to his bedroom, their argument unacknowledged. This 'thing' was built on words better left unsaid. The silence didn't feel as erie as it should have.

He came in to find her sitting on his bed facing the window. She once told him she loved hearing the city noise as she slept. He told her she needed to stop getting high with Foreman.

Sitting on the other side facing away from her, he peeled off his rocker tee. She peeked at his back muscles shifting, rippling. _Oh, God,_ she thought. She wondered numerous times what it would be like if they REALLY slept together. Would he be tender the way he is now? Or would he throw her legs over his shoulders and fuck the breath out of her now that he could?

She only enforced the no-sex rule because she KNEW it would be different. He would be different. Not to mention, sex would catapult them into demands and expectations and all the things both of them were running from. No, it really was better this way.

He felt the bed dip as she walked around it, stopping in front of him. She waited until he opened his legs and allowed her to step between them. Leaning back a little, he took in her plain underwear peeking under her pink scrub shirt, her hair still pulled up in a messy bun, and her eyes so tired. _Why does she keep coming back?_ he wondered.

He knew he was crossing into dangerous territory but he didn't care. He was pain-free and he was going to take a little something for himself to celebrate tonight. She may not want a relationship with him but she needed this as much as he did. A fact he was avidly taking advantage of.

_Why was he being so different tonight,_ she wondered. Normally they would fall into bed and pass out immediately, but tonight... His hands crept under her shirt, grasping her hips. Hesitant, like he was afraid she would bolt. It made her feel in control, these silent requests for her permission. That look asking, _Is this okay? Can I touch you there?_

Damn his hands, making her forget everything that mattered. Her job, her reputation, Chase; all muted voices shoved to her subconscious. All she knew was what she felt. The warmth of his palms, the subtle slide of his thumbs on her stomach, the shifting colors in his eyes that she couldn't stop staring at. She felt she finally understood addiction because of him, because of the feelings he elicited from her.

His fingertips danced up her back as he caught her shirt on his forearms. She arched so he could pull it over her head. It fluttered over her and fell somewhere forgotten. She didn't see where it landed, a fact she would hate him for in the morning.

She nudged him to lie back, still uncomfortable with her half-nakedness around him, and he acquiesced gladly. Stretched out over him, his hands found their way into her hair, massaging her scalp. she hummed her appreciation into his neck. Bringing her knees up, she straddled him and kept one hand on his cheek, still adjusting to the the smoothness. This is what kept her coming back. This closeness that she never could seem to create with Chase, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe it was because after all these years, she still didn't trust him. Still waiting for him to turn on her. It hung in the corners of her mind, filed under 'This is how we'll end.'

She had to stop comparing them. It kept sneaking up on her at the wrong times. The shower, stitching a leg, mid-fuck with Chase, talking to Cuddy; House already had her body, why was he suddenly trying to take everything else?

As much as he liked her on top of him, the need for sleep was really pulling on him. He nudged her over and she took the hint, reluctantly climbing under the covers. He spooned up against her and out of habit, put his damaged thigh between hers. They had discovered this trick one morning when they woke up and the warmth between her thighs soothed his pain to an low ebb. They began sleeping that way ever since. Even though he didn't need that heat now, it was part of their routine. And he was a creature of habit.

"What time do you have to get up," he whispered into her hair. She'd just started to drift off.

"Mhmm...umm six, I think."

"Christ," he muttered. Did he even remember what six o'clock looked like?

Rolling away for a moment, he reached for his alarm clock and set the time. She had an alarm on her phone but he liked to watch her get ready, or just hear her moving around. Hearing someone padding through his apartment was something he didn't want to admit he missed.

He wasn't the cuddling type. He didn't crave affection. Everybody lies.

Shit. He was supposed to call Cuddy to wish her goodnight. Pfff nevermind. He'll call her tomorrow and apologize. She probably expected him to forget anyhow.

Rolling back, he tucked the blankets around him and rested his chin on her head. He still couldn't get over her being blond. He loved her hair brown. It's why he liked Cuddy facing away from him when she slept, he could freely think of Cameron without it showing on his face.

She huffed and buried deeper into his pillow. _This is how we'll end,_ he thought before he faded into blackness.

----------------------------


	3. Cut Me Half

Chapter 3 Cut Me Half

_God give me strength to lead a double life.  
Cut me in half.  
Make each half happy in its own way  
with what is left. Let me disobey  
my own best instincts  
and do what I want to do, whatever that may be,  
without regretting it, or thinking I might._

_-Prayer by Hugo Williams_

_Shit. _The door squeaked as she entered her apartment. Chase sometimes liked to wait at her place when she had to pull a late shift. She really thought he wanted to make sure she didn't smell like another man. Thank God House didn't wear cologne.

"Chase?" no one answered. She took a deep breath and dropped her purse on the table.

_One less lie to tell. _

She knew she should end it. Her and Chase really had been done for awhile, he was the only one pushing to stay together. She only let him because, as ashamed as she was to admit it, for a lack of a better idea. With Chase, she knew what she was dealing with. Knew his faults, his weaknesses, what mattered to him and where she stood. That kind of knowledge was oddly comforting in some twisted way that screamed dysfunctional.

Whatever. She couldn't even remember what functional felt like.

Kicking off her shoes at the door, she walked over to the fridged, opened it and peered in. The root beer was calling her name so she grabbed it, popped the top off the glass bottle, and took a healthy swig.

"Rough night?"

Soda squirted out her mouth and down the front of her shirt.

"Jesus, what the hell Chase?"

He padded closer to her from the doorway, in nothing but is briefs, and raised his arms to hug her. She evaded him, instead hunting for a towel.

"Would it kill you to announce yourself. Christ, it's still my apartment." The towel was no help, only rubbing the soda into her skin. Friggin thin shirts. She peeled it off to find it had stained her bra as well. Fuck.

"Yeah, yeah I know how you are about your space." His arms dropped to his sides, defeated. When did she become used to seeing that expression on his face? Why couldn't they be happy?

She folded the shirt and placed it on the counter to remind her to get it cleaned. The neatness calmed her. Light slowly crept into the room, filling the silence, showing the stress on her face that he mistook as lack of sleep. She was actually irritated that he was here, interrupting her morning ritual. It's why they rarely slept over at her place. She liked watching the sun rise with a drink in her hand, in HER kitchen...alone. She couldn't help it. He felt like an intruder even though she knew he shouldn't.

_He's not waiting for me, you know._

_Liar._

_I know Cuddy's not really away at a conference. What did you tell her?_

_I went to get drunk with Wilson._

_Liar._

Chase was staring at her. That's right. She hadn't said anything. Crap. She was standing in the kitchen, in her bra, staring at the sun filtering the shades but her mind was still back in HIS bed, HIS smell, HIS eyes begging her to stay behind his smirk. She needed to get it together.

"I'm sorry. It was unbearably long shift. Nothing happened all night," she said facing the window. He came up behind her, rubbing her shoulders. She relaxed under his hands. She had to give in to keep this thing going. In the beginning, she was just afraid to be vulnerable. Now she was afraid to give a piece of herself to someone who she knew wasn't going to be around forever. They had an expiration date like everything--and everyone--had in her life.

He kissed the side of her neck and stepped closer. This was her cue to lean into him but she didn't. He understood. With her it was always baby steps, things she could control before she would let him in. He pulled her closer to his chest and linked his hands against her stomach. She could almost believe his new-grown scruff belonged to man she just left. Almost.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he whispered into her ear.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. You didn't deserve it." _I do_, she thought.

***********************

"You're here early. I thought your binge with Wilson would put you coming in at noon, at least."

_Why does everyone ignore the closed blinds?_

"I'm recovering. And I'm still not going to be here mentally 'till noon anyway. I wouldn't want to scare the clinic nurses by arriving on time," he replied, not bothering to get off the couch or remove the hat covering his face. His dismissals used to fuel their attraction, this back and forth struggle for control. Her eyes flashing, they way she flung his words back at him, how he invaded her space just to watch her breasts heave kept him coming back just to see how far he could go. And now--they were just breasts. His lust for her drove his thoughts away from his pain but pain--wasn't a factor anymore. So where did that leave them?

"Like that would ever happen," she muttered. He heard her. Felt a twinge of guilt before casting it aside as useless. Didn't matter if he felt guilty because guilt didn't change things, only people's perception of them.

He felt her angry glare burn through his hat, but continued to play dumb. He didn't call when he was supposed to--more like didn't jump when she ordered, and now he was supposed to crawl for forgiveness. Yeah. Right.

The reasons why he didn't call seeped into his mind as he felt himself back in his bed, with HER. Her soft hair against his lips, her smooth thighs cradling his, warmth radiating off of her like a furnace--he swore he could almost hear her sigh.

_House are you still awake? ...House?_

_Don't forget to shower before you leave. Wouldn't want the wombat to get a whiff of me on you._

_I like your smell._

_Wouldn't be a warm-blooded woman if you didn't._

_Her laugh was a soft as a whisper._

But it wasn't her. And it wasn't a laugh. It was Cuddy who sighed. She had been waiting for him to respond while he fantasized about Cameron's thighs. God he was horrible.

"I said drink some damn coffee and call me when you're ready to apologize, if you can spare some time from your busy schedule." Her heels clicked angrily down the hall. After waiting a few seconds, he removed his hat. If she saw how well-rested he looked, she would know his binge night with Wilson was a lie, and as much as their relationship was unraveling, he couldn't lie to her so boldly. Lie to save patients? Yes. Lie about how he spends his nights? No. He'd known Cuddy too long to disrespect in that way.

_You're disrespecting her now by spending your nights with Cameron, you idiot_, he told himself.

He would find Cuddy later and apologize. Then he would find Wilson to keep him current on his lies. And hopefully he would find Cameron and...

***********************

"Did I really deserve that? I mean, I know I slept with her cousin but it wasn't like her sister or one of her friends. She didn't have to cut my arm with my own hunting knife. Jeez"

It was times like these that made Cameron hate the E.R. She was irritable, didn't get a chance to get any coffee because Chase wanted a quickie, and all she wanted to do was bury herself in something mindless like paperwork. Not listen to this idiot explain away his wandering--

"Well you're a woman, what do you think?"

She sighed. "Mr. O'Donell, I--"

"Think you need to keep it in your pants before your wife becomes the next Lorena Bobbit."

Her hand froze in mid-stich. _Ignore him,_she thought. She could feel House's stare but she continued as if she hadn't heard anything. House and Mr. O'Donell bantered back and forth but Cameron tuned them out, her intent focused purely on what she was doing. She was so close to getting this guy out of her E.R., nothing was going to get in her way. Not even whatever forced House down here. Two more stitches. Two more. Then relief in a coffee cup.

"Ok, Mr. O'Donell you're good to go. Come back in three weeks to get them removed and call if you have any questions."

"But this guy--"

"Thank you, Mr. O'Donell," she said, forcefully cutting him off. Mr. O'Donell took the hint and hopped off the table in a huff.

Cameron shook her head and finally faced House.

"What do you want?"

_You._ "I need a consult," he replied.

She headed to the nurse's station with the patient's chart. He followed, leaning on the counter next to her.

"There are other immunologists, House."

"None that I trained," his voice dropped to a whisper, "or any that know the male body so well."

Her face flamed. She looked around hoping no one heard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She focused on what she was writing, making sure her handwriting was neat, remembering all the facts. This was her last chart before her break and she could almost smell the the cheap roasted coffee beans from the cafeteria.

"What do you want, really?"

"I told you. I need a consult." His manner back to business.

"And I need coffee. Come find me after I get my fix." She continued filling out the chart, effectively dismissing him.

"It can't wait."

"It's gonna have to." She set the chart down and he placed his hand over hers.

"When?"

She pulled her hand away. "Not here."

She grabbed another chart trying her best to look annoyed. "Rooftop. Ten minutes."

She barely waited for his nod before dropping the chart and turning towards the cafeteria. The coffee was crap but she couldn't wait to brew her own. She needed energy NOW. Caffeine was the only thing that kept her focused at times like this. It helped her remember she was at work, in a relationship with Chase, and life was swell. Just swell. Her hand still tingled from his touch.

*********************

While in line waiting to pay for her coffee, she gripped the bar next to her as she sipped. She wondered what House wanted that would make him approach her in public. Usually he was so worried about the rumor mill, he wouldn't even acknowledge her until she got to his house or their bar. _Get a grip, Allison._ She repeated her "I'm at work" mantra until she felt a hand cover her own, and a presence slide up behind her.

She ripped her hand away, "House, what did I ju--"

"House? Why the hell would he be holding your hand?" Chase asked.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Think fast. Something believable.

"Sorry, House has been harassing me lately. He just left the E.R. like, five minutes ago. I thought he had come back to harass me some more."

Whew. She was getting too good at this.

"Oh. Well, you want me to go talk to Cuddy 'bout it? Since, she's his girlfriend an' all," he said with a trace of disbelief. Everyone was still shocked they were together still after six months. Chase bet Foreman and Cutner they wouldn't last a week. In the end, Cameron won all the money. She split it with House the day after.

"No, don't go to Cuddy. She's got enough going on, you know how House is. He probably did it because he knew I would tell you and it would cause problems between us."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Wouldn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing about a spat in the cafeteria."

Cameron finally reached the cashier and pulled out a few bills to pay.

"Don't worry about it, I got it." Chase stepped in front of her, wallet already out. The cashier smiled at Cameron with that "Lucky you," face that almost made her want to heave. She hated false displays. It was a couple bucks, he didn't cure cancer for chrissakes. She didn't say anything however, and smiled oh so brightly when Chase turned around for his peck on the cheek. She gave it out of habit, not with the feeling she knew she should have. Her mind was on how to explain to Chase that she needed to be alone so she could get to the roof. House was not a patient man.

Chase headed towards their usual booth when Cameron stopped him.

"Hey, I'm gonna go outside for a bit, get some fresh air and then I'll catch you after my shift is done."

"It's freezing outside. Why not just sit here for a bit? You can tell me all about the craziest injury of the day?"

His smile was so hopeful. She almost decided to forget House and do what Chase wanted just so they could get back to the way things were before her and House started, when she really did enjoy being around him, when she waited all day for moments like this.

"I can't. Look it's nothing personal, I just need some peace and quiet for a few minutes, it's been a hectic morning."

He looked down and nodded. He'd always understood. It's one of the things she loved about him. She felt a pang of guilt at abusing his understanding like this. She hugged him and left anyway.

****************

She found him at the top of the stairwell, impatiently tapping his fingers against the wall. It was cute, though she would never tell him, how much he clearly missed his cane, how much his mind needed to be occupied. His fingers paused as he watched her approach.

"If I had known you meant ten minutes in girl-time, I wouldn't have wasted ten minutes outside freezing my balls off," he complained with a grimace, awkwardly standing and heading outside.

"I thought you'd be used to the feeling, dating Cuddy and all," she replied as she followed.

"Touche," he replied.

Boundaries. She desperately needed them right now. Last night muddled things more than she wanted to admit. She felt herself getting dreamy-eyed for him all over again and she couldn't, wouldn't set herself up for that smackdown again. No matter how he felt now.

She used her pager to prop open the door, and joined him by the ledge. She kept her distance. He ignored it as usual, crossing over to her and invading her space in an oddly comforting way. His bare hand cupped her cheek. She turned away. Her mouth burned, holding back all the questions she wanted to ask. _Why are you doing this? Why now? Why me?_

He dropped his hand and leaned on the ledge. She copied him.

"I know this isn't a consult," she said, eyebrow raised.

"I got two primo seats to a monster truck show, interested?"

"What happened to Wilson?"

"Wilson can't make it."

"So I'm the back up again?" she asked with a trace of mirth.

"Gotta have a back-up in case mine's ack-up, or so Foreman tells me. You understand ebonics way better than I do."

She laughed. "Is this another non-date?"

He fiddled with his fingers. "Yep, interested?"

She paused. Lines were getting crossed left and right since he started taking the methadone. Should she go? If she did, then she couldn't call this a comfort thing anymore, they would be approaching something deeper. Intimate. She felt her control slipping.

Never mind, it's just monster trucks. You've done this before, she told herself. It's not a big deal. Not to mention, she desperately needed to do something more than work and go home.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I'm going to need a little more notice than that," she said.

"Sorry, but my hooker got a better offer. Can you believe the nerve of some women?"

Cameron mentally rifled through her schedule tomorrow to see if she could sneak away. She only had her morning shift, Chase was...working a double.

"Yes, I can make it. Barring any unforeseen circumstances."

"Ok. Of course, you know you have no chance of beating me to the car this time."

"That's because I don't have a chance, I have an absolutely certainty I'm going to beat you to the car," she replied sweetly.

He turned towards her grinned. He'd never say it aloud, but he loved how feisty she'd become, and it was an even bigger turn-on knowing he was the one who brought it out.

The wind whipped her hair around her head, alerting him to the fact that she didn't have on a hat. They really needed to find better places to meet. He couldn't risk hypothermia every time he wanted to ask her a simple question. For the second time that day, he regretted that he was with Cuddy and she was with Chase. He pushed the thought away.

A comfortable quiet settled between them. He reached behind her and pulled her hood over her head, she smiled at the gesture and straightened his coat, holding on to the lapels, pulling him closer. This was spiraling out of control.

Her pager went off by the door, bringing them both back to reality. He cleared his throat and she stepped away, regaining her composure.

"Break time is officially over," she explained as she went to pick up her pager.

"Catch," he said before throwing her his pager. "I need a few more minutes before I go back to ducking Cuddy," he explained.

She caught it and nodded, placing his pager where hers was to prop open the door.

"Tomorrow, 5:30. Pack a change of clothes, I wanna get there early."

Never turning around, she sent him a wave over her shoulder and headed for the steps, making sure the door didn't slam on his pager.

He watched her leave, tapping his fingers against the cold brick and facing the bitter wind. What the hell was he doing asking her out again? Every instinct of self-preservation told him this was a mistake but he couldn't stop himself. Her boundaries were chafing him and he wanted to know how far could he push her before she caved. Because she would. And it would be the sweetest victory he ever tasted.

Cuddy. Lisa. Shit. She hung behind every dirty thought he had of Cameron because she didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve him. He could cloak his actions in nonchalance and 'This is who I am,' but this wasn't who he was. He hated cheaters. Despised them because of how his father treated his mother, walking around like no one noticed. And now he had become one. Again, shit.

He should leave her. Be honest, admit it wasn't working and pursue Cameron fully like he wanted...but he couldn't. For once he finally understood why Wilson, nice guy that he was, could cheat and did so frequently. When things began to feel like he was only playing a part, merely a shadow of the character Lisa wanted for a man instead of the real him--screw this. This was pure selfishness, plain and simple. It was natural for children to imitate their parents, no matter how hard they try to act otherwise. Cameron's self-consciousness was rubbing off on him.

He didn't want to hurt Lisa, that knowledge he was comfortable with. She was safe and easy, not to mention she would roast him for all eternity if she ever felt slighted for another woman. He was caught.

_Don't think, just feel._

Isn't that what she whispered to him that first night? Of course she would never have said that sober but that's beside the point. Don't think. Just feel. The lies we tell ourselves. He needed to be honest with himself. He was selfish, this was wrong and everything was going to blow up in his face. Got that? Good. No surprises. He would deal with whatever fallout happened.

And he still looked forward to tomorrow.

-----------------------------


	4. Under My Skin

Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to put these things on here. As usual, I don't own the characters, just the storyline.

**WARNING**: There is explicit adult content in this chapter so if that bothers you, then don't read. And by the way, yes there will be more explicit content so you may as well stop reading all together. If you're like me and it doesn't bother you then enjoy. ^_^

Chapter 4 Under My Skin

"You were right again," She said around a mouthful of cotton candy. He playfully snatched it from her and took a huge chunk with his teeth.

"Gravedigger does not disappoint," she laughed as she snatched the cotton candy back. "Don't let it go to your head."

"What, that I'm always right?" he asked. "Never. Facts don't inflate my ego."

She tried to smother her laugh and failed. She hadn't had this much fun in a long time. Chase would never--_Don't. Don't go there_.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked through the stadium back to his motorcycle. No pretenses, no false smiles or forced small talk--just the way she liked things--simple. There were times like this when she wanted desperately to ask what he was thinking, but she knew he liked his privacy, even had come to like it herself, not having a to tell everyone all your thoughts. With him she came to love the quiet.

"Favorite part?" he asked.

"Watching you dump that guy's beer on himself when you jumped up and yelled. I thought he was going to kill you," she paused. "I'd have never pegged you for a front row kind of person," she said.

"Please, I so could've powned his ass. And front row is where the true fans are. It's where you get to feel the action, the grit, instead of just being a spectator. It's--" he looked at her and brought his energy down a notch. "It's the best."

She caught his mood change but she didn't comment on it. She saw a side of him tonight that she never knew existed and that was enough. They had laughed; she'd screamed when a truck got too close, he almost snorted his beer and they'd even participated in crowd games; though he stubbornly sat through the wave while people heckled him. Tonight was intense, heady, and now...now she felt her high draining with every step. Return to the status quo.

"Your turn, favorite part," she said, picking at the last of her cotton candy. They passed through the gate into the parking lot.

"No kids. That's the first time I've been in front row and didn't have to restrain myself from choking some four-year-old who couldn't stop kicking my seat," he replied.

"You really hate kids that much?"

"Of course. If I start being nice to kids, Cuddy and Jimmy will think world peace has happened. I have an image to maintain." He slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Not around me you don't." _Where the hell did that come from?_

He stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

Oh crap. Her stupid, stupid mouth.

"I'm just saying--I didn't mean--I mean--" she babbled until he brought a hand to her face, dragging his thumb across her chin.

_Just another one of his games, _she thought, _Don't panic. No big deal._

She backed away until she felt her back hit something solid. Looking to her left, she found she was against a cream SUV. Oh not good. Not good.

His hand never leaving her cheek, he merely followed, invading her space and daring her to do something about it. Only this didn't feel like dare, more like teetering on something they'd been dancing around for years, something that had ratcheted up a notch ever since their arrangement started.

His thumb moved up, slowly rubbing her lower lip, his fingertips lightly brushing her jaw line. She looked back at the stadium, distant street lamps, anything but his face.

"No," she whispered. His thumb continued it's torturous path, his mouth mirroring hers in an open pant. "No," she whispered again and shook his hand off. She tried to step to the side but he placed his other hand on the car, looking down at her smugly. He knew she could stop this if she wanted, he just had to see if she would. He told himself he'd stop before they did anything either of them would regret.

"Please don't," she tried again, but her body was betraying her. She put her hands on his chest to shove him away but they traitorously grabbed his shirt and drug his body closer. She tried to turn away from his mouth but found herself merely leaning back as he licked a sinful path up her neck. And then..._Oh God_. How did he know she had a thing for biting?

He was forgetting himself again. What had started as a chance to irritate her spiralled as soon as she yanked him close and he caught a whiff of her perfume. Not sugary sweet like she normally wore but faint, flowery with a hint of musk. Womanly. Screw the the game, he thought, suckling on the skin behind her ear and placing his palms on the car. He was trying to let her set the pace.

"Don't," she said forcefully, pushing him back, holding on to her last shred of control.

"Don't what," he panted, frustrated.

She gulped in air as she felt herself on the precipice. She could still pull back. She could ignore the dark look in his eyes, pretend that this never happened, get on his bike, go home and wait for Chase. She did not have to be the kind of person that does this.

She looked into his eyes for the answer.

"Don't stop," she said as she grabbed his face and kissed him violently.

She was not gentle nor romantically reverent like he thought she would be. She was fiercely passionate, alternating between nipping at his bottom lip and soothing it with long sweeps of her tongue. He felt he almost couldn't keep up with the force of her mouth. Not to be outdone, he pressed her into the car, letting her feel how much he wanted her as well, and so damn thankful there was no cane to hinder this moment.

She grunted and wrapped a leg around his waist, slowly grinding into his erection causing him to bite her lip in surprise. She grinned into his mouth and hopped up, wrapping both legs around him, needing desperately to get closer. He gripped her ass and he ground himself deeper, almost as if he was trying to fuck her through their jeans. Her wet heat soaking through and driving him wild.

He slipped a hand inside the back of her jeans, kneading one smooth cheek. She tore her mouth away. "Hunhhh," she moaned deep in her throat.

He groaned. That moan was going to be the death of him. He was already hard as granite but that sound went straight to his balls, making him press harder into her. The friction was almost painful, but he ignored it. Instead he focused on her clenching handfuls of his leather jacket, swiveling her hips up and down, side to side--_fuck! _

He returned to her neck, raining kisses up and down it, delighted when his bites made her whimper. Somewhere in his lust-addled brain he realized they were crossing boundaries like jumping hurdles. And he couldn't stop. Not now. Somewhere between talking and palming her ass, he'd stop wanting to screw with her and just plain wanted to screw her. Right now, up against this car, he didn't care. He couldn't even remember the last time he had sex standing up.

Cameron, on the other hand, felt she was having an out-of-body experience. It was as if she were merely a bystander and some wanton slut had taken over, doing things she would never do in public, or sober. Like enjoy the subtle rocking of his hips as he thrust up and down. Up, down. The friction of denim on denim helping her climb higher and higher.

What was she doing? Dry-humping House in a parking lot? Had she lost her mind? Yes, the inner slut replied. And she was enjoying every tantalizing minute of it. Fuck she was almost there. A couple more seconds, a little more pressure and...

"What are you doing on our car?"

They froze.

They turned to see two angry parents with three open-mouthed, probably scarred, kids.

_Well that's a boner-killer_, House thought.

He lowered her legs and Cameron shakily stood and faced the outraged couple, ready with profuse apologies and probably a donation to therapy for their kids.

"Well?" the father asked.

Cameron cringed, waiting for the insulting comeback from House.

"We're sorry," he replied, looping an arm around Cameron's shoulders, pulling her beside him. Her jaw dropped.

"I just got home from the war and I just couldn't help myself," he said. Even adding an aw-shucks shrug of the shoulders. He looked down at her smiling and kissed the top of her head.

"You look a little old to be in the military. What branch," the father said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

House stepped forward and shook it, "JAG. Twenty years in and ready to retire."

"Oh a squid, huh? Marines, retired."

The mother began ushering the kids into the car, peeking at Cameron and shaking her head, scandalized.

"Jarhead, eh? With that haircut, you don't have to explain."

The father chuckled. "Well old habits die hard, you know."

They shared a laugh and Cameron felt she stepped into the Twilight Zone.

"Well, we're grateful for your service to America but next time just wait 'till you get home soldier," he said.

House nodded. "Will do," he replied, giving the man a salute.

He returned it and followed his wife into the car, giving one last friendly wave. They started the car and drove off as Cameron shrugged off House's arm.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You, actually being polite and--and lying about being in the military?" she shook her head.

"You've seen me do more impressive lying to Cuddy," he replied.

House mentally kicked himself. Now was not the time to bring up the reality of his--and her--situation. Yet, he didn't want to pretend nothing happened. God, he could still feel her tongue sweeping through his mouth, claiming him. He shoved his hands into his pockets to covered his aroused state. She was probably already explaining this away in her head and planning never to speak to him again.

"The bike's over there," she pointed out quietly.

He read the shame all over her face. He wanted to get back to where they were up against that car, back to the wild and slutty Cameron, not the proper, please-don't-hate-me Cameron. But what's the pillow talk for dry-humping your ex-employee?

He followed her to the bike in the handicapped section and wordlessly got on, steadying it for her. She plucked her helmet off the handlebar and climbed on behind him, hooking her thumbs through his beltloops. He could feel she was somewhere else.

And she was. She was back in arms wishing that family hadn't walked up when they had. She was achingly wet, horny as hell, and trying not to reach into House's pants and finish what they'd started. Apparently the inner slut was still in control. She had felt something in her snap when he kissed her. Like everything she had been holding back was released; her last wall had fallen. She was fully herself in a way she never allowed herself to be her whole life. All the reasons that this was wrong evaporated. He made her want to take something for herself, just this once, and never speak of it ever again.

House unhooked her thumbs and wrapped her arms around his waist. The silence was tense, fraught with questions that were best avoided. He strapped on his helmet and revved the engine; the vibrations making her tingle exquisitely. Backing up slowly, he switched gears and shot out of the parking lot. It hit him then that it was mostly empty. _How long had they been there? _he wondered.

Effortlessly, he weaved in between cars as she glued herself to him, hip to chest. Once they left the stadium, her grip relaxed and she settled into the easy rhythm of his driving. He never had to tell her when to lean, or to follow his lead, she instinctively did it. A fact he was grateful for after he took Cuddy on a ride and she damn near killed them both leaning the opposite way into a turn. He railed for weeks afterward. He never took her for a ride again, despite her repeated promises that she knew what she was doing.

Coming back into the city, they reached a red light. House put his feet on ground and impatiently tapped a rhythm on the handlebars. Until he felt her hand sneak under his jacket, bypass his shirt, and start rubbing gentle circles into his stomach. She didn't move her head off his back, her breathing didn't change, she just caressed him like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grinned.

The light changed and she stopped, but she didn't move her hand. She splayed her fingers out and held him tight while her other hand stayed above his jacket. He propelled the bike forward, pretending that what she was doing didn't affect him. After a few minutes, she began rubbing circles again, lower...and lower.

He drove on, wanting to see how far she would take this. He felt her finger dip past his waistband, then another, followed by the rest; her nails raking through his trail of hair. Focus, he told himself. One more street, and he'd be at her place. If she wanted to play, she was not going to win.

Her fingertip brushed the root of his cock while he was turning. He jumped but surprisingly kept the bike steady. They finally arrived at her apartment and she withdrew her hand, returning it to the outside of the jacket. His skin tingled. He parked the bike, turned it off, waiting to see what she would do. Her quietness unnerved him. He hated not being able to read her.

She climbed off and strapped his helmet to the back seat. Fixing her hair, she walked up towards her door without a backwards glance. What the hell? He bit back a thousand scathing retorts, each one more cutting than the last, and violently twisted the ignition. He shook his head, looking behind him as he backed up.

"House!"

He turned. She was halfway to the door, a smile on her face.

"You coming?"

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	5. Crash Into Me

WARNING: This is a smut-heavy chapter. If that wigs you out, then just wait for the next one.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything, dear jesus-buddha-allah-krishna don't sue. My hoes aren't making enough money as it is. Just kidding, but seriously I don't own anything, it all belongs to David Shore and all the wonderful people at FOX.

Chapter 5 Crash Into Me

"Hurry up," he grunted.

At Cameron's door, he doesn't give Cameron time to second-guess her decision, grinding into her ass while she tried to fit her key into the lock, failing miserably as he nipped at her neck and sneaking a hand down the front of her jeans. _How was a girl supposed to focus?_

Stumbling inside the apartment, House slammed into her against the door, shedding their jackets with barely controlled fury. They broke apart as she tugged on his shirt. He obliged and tossed it over his shoulder. Her hands immediately went for his zipper but he stopped her cold.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," she reminded him.

"This is different."

"It can't be any more a mood-killer than acting out a porno in front of a family of five."

He wouldn't let go of her hands.

"I'm a doctor, remember?"

He looked away and he dropped his hands as hers went to work on his zipper. She undid the top button, her eyes flickering to his face. He stubbornly faced the window, waiting for the inevitable disgust. Sure she had seen it but only in passing, and he never let her linger for too long. If she saw the damage up close and turned those puppy eyes on him...the only thing she'd be seeing is his dust as he flew out of there.

She slipped two fingers inside the waistband of his boxers, running then coyly back and forth. He looked down at her, his face blank. She smirked.

"Don't look away," she said.

Locked in his stare, she unzipped him and slipped her hands under his pants and down over his backside. She kneeled, pushing them down to his ankles, and stood up, never breaking his stare. Not even a quick peek. He raised an eyebrow.

"Think you've won me over, do you?" he asked.

Cupping his erection, his breath caught. She massaged him through the fabric.

"I think someone made that call for you."

God, he made her feel empowered.

He reached for her pants, feeling a little under-dressed, but she swatted his hands away. So instead, he placed his palms flat on the door, trapping her like before but not to scare her this time. If anything, she looked incredibly turned on. He licked his lips.

Slowly, she popped the top button, looked at him and bit her lip. Slipping her index finger inside, she crooked her finger and pushed the zipper apart. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen a woman do.

Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, she did a slow shimmy, until they fell past her hips and he assisted her by pulling them the rest of the way down. Kneeling before her, eyeing her lacy, sheer black underwear, he placed a small kiss on her hip. _Too intimate_, she thought. She looked away and threaded her fingers through his hair.

"Sometime today, please," she said with mock exasperation, trying to lighten the mood.

He replied by snapping her underwear off with a satisfying _riiiip _and fastening his mouth directly on her clit.

"Ahh!" she cried out, trying not to scratch his scalp.

He smirked inwardly and began lapping steadily between her moist lips, spelling his name over and over. She shuddered, gripping his head with both hands, trying not to suffocate him but needing him closer, deeper. He took the hint and guided her leg over his shoulder and grabbed her ass with both hands, thrusting his tongue in as far as it would go.

_Oh god_, she thought,_ I'll never be able to look at his mouth ever again_.

The back of her head slammed repeatedly into the door as she bit her lip to muffle her moans. She put her other leg over his shoulder and eagerly rode his face. One hand in his hair, the other clawing the door above her head. She struggled to take in deep breaths before giving up altogether, her mind centered purely on the coil deep in her belly. _So close_.

Clenching, rhythmically flexing her thighs, she felt herself climb higher and higher as his grunts vibrated on all the right places. Her nails dug into the wood, her ankles locked on his back, her eyes shut tight, she pressed his face closer just as his teeth grazed her clit.

"Ohhhhhhh! Ohhhhh! Fuuck! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Her head snapped back as her fingers tightened in his air, and she rode the wave of white hot pleasure flowing from her head to puddling in her toes.

Her shoulders slumped as she released him. He smiled while wiping his mouth with his hand, looking at her with satisfaction, his hair sticking up every which way. She didn't care if he used this moment against her. Hell, she didn't care if he stood in the clinic shouting what they did from a bullhorn. After cumming like that, everyone else could shove it.

Absentmindedly, she stared at his smile.

He gingerly removed her legs from his shoulders as he stood and wrapped them around his waist, holding her up by her thighs. He licked his lips comically, like a cat that got the cream. She laughed softly. Only he could be funny after a mind-numbing orgasm.

"Think the neighbors' heard?" she quietly asked.

"Would you care if they did?" he questioned.

She felt an underlying question he was too uncomfortable to ask. Did he mean did she care what other people thought of him being here? She'd be lying if she said no. She couldn't help it. She was a girl. She had always been raised on what a lady does and doesn't do, and this was certainly what a lady DOES NOT do. But she'd decided to forget her etiquette training because tonight, was about taking what she wanted, no regrets. At least not while his erection was pressed into her, deliciously hard and insistent.

"No," she paused. "I don't care what anyone thinks right now."

Clearly, he didn't believe her, but she didn't care. He didn't have to. She reached for him, twining her fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down and capturing his lips. He gave in, deepening the kiss, making her gasp as she tasted herself on his tongue.

Pulling back, he lifted her shirt over head before tossing it and diving back in. Jesus--each kiss made him feel like he was drowning, and whenever he tried to surface for air, she was pulling him under again.

He snuck one hand behind her back, making quick work of her bra. She smirked against his mouth, lifting her arms as he pulled it off. It landed with a light ping on her coffee table. She noticed it, pulling away for a moment, absentmindedly looking over his shoulder, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes daring her to look away. She defiantly glared back. He smirked, loving how she tried to act more in control than she really was. But he'd had enough of toying with her. He was throbbing almost to the point of pain and he realized he was probably not going to be very gentle...or last that long. Yet judging by the scratches on his head, he didn't think she would complain.

Lifting her up, he yanked his boxers down, positioned himself and slammed upward, making them both cry out with guttural moans.

"Je-sus," she panted.

She had hoped he'd be a decent size but he was more than she normally could handle. She gripped his shoulders, trying to to steady her breathing but she couldn't seem to stop clenching. Automatically, she rose and fell, using her hands to push off of him and clenching her thighs on every down-stroke.

He stalled her hips with his hands.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the stallion everyone thinks I am," he said breathlessly.

"Oh," she realized, smiling sheepishly but secret loving how she could affect him. It was something she never heard a man say, not even her husband. She felt a pang as old feelings rose to surface. Feelings she thought were finally over and done with. _Then he wouldn't be here_, she thought. She turned away.

He covered the awkward silence by leaning into her neck and inhaling deep, regaining some control before cupping her ass and thrusting slowly. "Ahhh," she breathed out, wrapping her arms around his neck. He muffled a groan against her throat.

Fuck she was tight, and so damn pillowy soft. He briefly toyed with the idea of dragging this out, making her beg so he could use it against her later, but her whimpers kept stealing every train of thought. Making him pump harder, struggling to maintain control and not lose it before she did. He couldn't help himself. Each time she let out a low moan, he hit that spot harder, angling his hips so his pelvis brushed her clit with every stroke.

"P-please...please," she whimpered.

Her back thumped against the door as wet slaps echoed throughout the room. "Tell me," he growled.

She shook her head.

"Say what you want. I want to hear you say it," he said, slowing down a fraction, clenching his teeth. Her heels dug into his lower back. She vainly tried to speed him up but he wouldn't budge. Her eyes pinched shut as he stared, waiting for her inevitable surrender.

She clenched her walls around him and he sucked in a breath. A whispered _fuck_ slipped out but he kept his thrusts steady, shallow, avoiding the place he knew she needed him most. It was evil of him, that he knew, but he'd secretly fantasized about her letting go and demanding what she wanted, taking control without asking. He also wanted to make sure she never forgot this, even if it never happened again. He had the suspicion Chase wasn't a generous fuck and he wanted her to crave him, even if she hated herself for it.

She rhythmically clenched her inner walls and by some pure miracle he held on, never changing but he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. He leaned close again and whispered in her ear, "Tell me 'cause I can do this for hours." It was a bold-faced lie but she didn't need to know that. He felt his thigh was burning and about to give out. But he was confident she would crumble before he did.

"Fuck me," she growled into his ear, clutching his head to her neck. His control snapped.

The door shook under the force of his thrusts, as he fucked her wildly, not caring if anyone heard. She arched into him, head thrown back as she keened loudly, eyes tightly shut.

"Ohh. Ohh. FUCK! Don't. STOP," she chanted, unaware.

Sweat dripped off his nose, landing on her shoulder as he moaned into her neck. Pushing her thighs up higher, striking deeper, she hit an octave he wasn't aware existed. Right in his ear. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Soon he felt her inner walls grip him like a velvet iron fist and he couldn't hold on anymore.

"Ahhhhh," he shouted in her ear, pumping wildly, his brain shutting down, blocking out everything but the intense euphoria flooding his limbs and ringing in his ears. He was vaguely aware that even his fingertips tingled.

They panted into each others necks, leaning heavily on the door, coming down slowly, blissfully, neither wanting to move.

As his awareness returned, House was the first to move, slowly reaching behind himself and unhooking her ankles. She took the hint and slid down his body as he slipped out. She tried to stand but her legs buckled underneath her, and as she fell, she was holding onto his arms and she took him with her.

"Oomph!" he grunted as he landed on top of her, narrowly missing the coffee table. She landed hard, her backside itchy from the carpet but she was so dazed, she almost didn't feel it. She felt she could go to sleep right there.

He tried to lift himself up but his arms gave way and he landed on top of her again, her breast mashed against his chest, slick with sweat. He laid still, too tired to try to move a second time.

"You don't need to breathe, do you?" he asked. He felt her chest shake slightly as she laughed.

"It's not my number one priority right now," she replied.

"And what is?"

"Sleep."

He grinned at that. Score one for House, he thought with pride.

Making the decision for them about their predicament, he saw a blanket draped off the edge of the couch. He reached for it, dragging it to them and covering them both, his muscles burning.

"If you tell anyone about this, I WILL deny it," he told her, rolling slightly to his side, kicking his boxers off his ankles, as she turned and curled into him.

"What? That House cuddles after sex? Never. Who would believe me?" she whispered against his chest. She briefly wished she could tell people. _It's better this way_, she reminded herself.

_I don't believe me right now_, he thought, as he closed his eyes and sank into warm darkness.


	6. O Lover

Chapter 6 O. Lover

"Mmmmmmm."

Feather-light touches ghosted up and down her back. Cameron struggled through the fog of sleep but it felt so, so...calming. His fingertips twisting and looping figure-eights down her spine. She snuggled deeper into his warm chest, slowly drifting away until she felt soft hairs tickle her nose. She stopped. Something about this was off. She noticed she was naked, then it hit her that the floor was itchy, and Chase...Chase doesn't have chest hair.

"Oh God."

"I was thinking you should go back to calling me House or Greg. Wouldn't want me to get a big head," he said quietly with a trace of mirth. Her eyes inched open. "Or would you?" he waggled his tongue at her. She shut her eyes, ashamed.

Oh God I did it, she thought. I really did it. And I wasn't even drunk or high. Oh God.

She could feel him waiting for her to say something, do something. Get up, scream, cry, or maybe even get all googly-eyed but she wasn't going to do any of that. They all required effort. And she was just too sore. Five years ago she would have been dissecting this moment and wondering if House loved her. Today, she wasn't in the mood to over-analyze or have a heartfelt chat. No, today she had the irrisistable urge to get clean, and fast.

She sat up, the blanket sliding down and exposing her breasts. House smiled like a ten-year-old that had gotten ahold of dad's playboy. It thrilled her but she inwardly shrugged it off. She looked around like she was unsure if this was really her apartment. Like any minute, the cameras would pop out and this would all be an elaborate joke of his.

"I need a shower," she said. abruptly getting up and stepping over him, padding nude down the hallway. He was amazed at her lack of shyness. He expected a little cringe or an awkward grab for a blanket while covering her breasts like a virgin. But nothing. She just walked with enough sway in her hips to bring him back to standing at attention, wanting her with a fierce energy, as if he were seventeen again with a perpetual hard-on and not the middle-aged cripple he was supposed to be.

Realizing he wasn't going to be able to wish his erection away, not with image of her naked and sudsy no less than ten feet from him, he got up as he heard the water cut on and followed the sound down her hallway. He grabbed nothing to cover himself, deciding to follow her example, and he took in her home. He noticed the wealth of bookcases, big and small, elegantly placed against every possible wall and corner. It reminded him of his place but her books where neatly put away with the spines glossy under the soft haze of morning light, as if they'd just been bought.

He put his arm out, trailing his fingers along the wall as he came closer to the sound of rushing water. Faintly, he heard her muffled humming. He smiled. Arriving at the door, he stopped, looked down and noticed the light peeking underneath, debating how well she would receive him busting in on her. He stood in the dark, pondering all her possible reactions, each one funnier than the last. Okay, decision made. He had to see for himself.

He slowly pushed the door open, feeling steam blow over him, warm and wet. He saw her shadow through the screen as she stood under the spray, letting it beat down on her head, her palms flat on the wall. The humming stopped. Quietly he stalked closer, already picturing her surprise, hoping she'd at least scream a little. He smiled to himself as he pushed the curtain aside and stepped in. She turned as she felt a breeze, blinking water out of her eyes. She squinted, realized it was him and glared before turning back towards the water. His smug smile deflated.

"Don't worry 'bout me. Just going green," he said.

She snorted. "Like you care about the planet. You thought you'd come in here and have me recreate the Psycho scream. Nice try," she replied, chuckling softly. She let the water beat down on her chest, clasping her hands at her throat, and turning from side to side slightly, her head thrown back in pleasure. He smiled. Just seeing her like this reminded him how he put that very same expression on her face not too long ago. He could almost pump his fist in the air in satisfaction, but he didn't think she would appreciate it.

It was nippingly chilly on his end of the tub, a reason why he hated sharing his showers, but his goosebumps barely registered to him. He just leaned back on the wall and watched her enjoy the warmth, memorizing the way the water slid down the sides of her thighs, cascading in ripples as she rocked herself. Droplets beading on the swell of ass, threatening to fall with each subtle sway. He took her in. Scientifically. Filing the image away for any lonely nights he was bound to have. They could never do this again, she probably wouldn't allow it. Even if she did, he couldn't allow it. Last night was...just an adrenaline high...or maybe he caught her after a bad day and Chase had pissed her off. Figures that the wombat would get too comfortable and neglect her. But was that what this was? They had been dancing around this for weeks, so was this just the culmination of years of sexual tension? He felt a twist in his gut.

He sidled up behind her, placed his hands on the curve of her shoulders, and she leaned back into his chest. He rubbed his palms gently up and down her arms before whispering in her ear, "My turn," and he gently turned her around and moved her out of the way, towards the wall. She stood in shock. "I wasn't even finished," she said in shock. "Too bad. You were taking too long." He looked over his shoulder. "Snooze you lose," he said, turning back towards the showerhead, letting the water wash over his face. Leaning forward so it could wash down her back. Cameron almost swallowed her tongue.

She knew he worked out, despite his protests. There was no way he could have those muscles without picking up a weight of two. What she was unprepared for was actually having an unencumbered view of...all of him. Before she only saw what he was comfortable with and she never let her eyes linger too long, for fear of making him shut down but...she sighed. Damn. No one understood her attraction to him but if they only saw him like this, they would understand.

She leaned against the shower wall. The cold stung her sharply, making her hiss. He turned and saw her staring at him hungrily and smirked, then he went back to putting shampoo in his hand and soaping his hair.

There's no way he's middle-aged, she thought as she watched his back muscles rise and fall as he scrubbed his head. His waist was too trim, his ass too firm. He had the build of a boxer and yet he had the willpower that only came with time and experience. Jesus. If he didn't stop teasing her, she was to going to throw him down and take him right here and now.

He stepped back from the spray, jerking her out of her fantasy. Stepping closer, he looked down at her with that satisfied smile he used to flash whenever he knew he had her heart racing. Her mouth opened an inch, she knew her pupils were probably dialated. She waited...and he stepped past her and out of the shower. She watched his shadow as he grabbed a towel and quietly left the bathroom. He left the door open however and soon the breeze had her ducking back under the water and finishing her shower.

Damn. He took all the hot water. Bastard.

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She came into the kitchen, fully clothed in loose pajama pants and a ribbed boy-beater, her hair in a loose ponytail, hoping he was still there but preparing herself if he wasn't. She found him rooting through her cupboards, holding the a coffee can and cursing under his breath. She walked past him, to the fridge and pulled out the coffee he liked best, set it on the counter, then went to the stove and pulled out the coffee maker beside it, plugging it up before plucking a cup from beside the sink and filling it to the brim. He stood up and watched her puttering around, going about her morning routine like he wasn't even there. But she felt his eyes on her. And despite her best efforts, she still felt a slight blush creep up her neck under his intense stare.

After punching the on-switch, she leaned against the counter and looked at him as he stared back, leaning against the side of her fridge.

"I guess we should talk."

"You've spent too much time with Wilson. His niceness is rubbing off on you," she said, folding her arms over her chest, her back stiff.

"Now that's funny. I thought you'd be foaming at the mouth to hear me express my feelings. Instead you're deflecting...interesting."

Her shoulders drooped. "Just say it," she said, defeat seeping into her voice. "It was a mistake. It can't happen again. You should stay with Chase blah-dee-blah." She studied her socks. "You act like I haven't heard this speech a million times from everyone in the hospital." She fixed her eyes on him. "Including Cuddy," she added.

He chewed her words over in his mind, measuring the truth in them. Would there ever be a time when it was okay to be around each other? Probably not. Especially given what happened. He felt a wave of disgust. Now every time he looked at her, he would be reminded of IT, and IT would always be referred to as 'what happened', like some dirty secret tucked away deep in a forgotten porn stash. That wasn't how he wanted to remember...this.

"What I meant was, we should discuss where we go from here."

"I don't know. We obviously can't go back to being bed-buddies like before," she replied.

He nodded.

"And we can't continue," she hesistated, "what happened last night. Can we." She looked at him and for a split second he could've sworn he saw hope in her eyes, but she turned away, back to staring at her feet again. It's over, vibrated on her tongue.

He pushed off the fridge with his back and walked towards her. Slinky smooth is how she would describe it, if she could ever muster up the courage to tell anyone. Sure, confident and sexy as hell. He stopped in front of her, the tips of their toes touching lightly, and gazed at her before putting his hands on his hips.

"Up," he whispered, and she hopped onto the counter with little assistance from him. He stood between her legs, intimately close and staring. Piercing her with his eyes, searching--for what, she wasn't sure. He kept his hands on her hips, opened his mouth a couple times before finding the strength to say--

"Why did you invite me up?"

Her mouth dropped open but she recovered quickly, leaning back onto her palms.

"Why did you dry-hump me against a car?" she returned.

"Maybe you should've told me 'Oh God yes' meant no. Then you could see how the moaning and the grinding had me confused," he snarked back.

"That's beside the point. The point is that you want a reason for how we ended up here and there isn't one. At least, not one that justifies," she moved her hand back and forth, "this."

She returned her hand to the counter, leaning heavily and heaving a deep sigh. "It just happened. I know you hate those responses but that's what it is," she shrugged.

"Nothing just happens. That's just a lame excuse people use instead of admitting how selfish they really are."

"And we all know you don't have a problem with admitting that," she said quietly. "And you didn't have to put me on the counter to have this conversation. You could've just stood over there." She pointed to the fridge.

"I think better with your legs wrapped around me. Might be useful for the next differential."

"I'm sure Cuddy would approve," she said, raising an eyebrow.

His mood darkened. Cameron cringed and mentally kicked herself. His hands dropped off her hips like dead fish; lifeless, defeated. He tried to back away but she crossed her ankles on his lower back, preventing him from moving any further.

"I didn't mean that," she said quietly. She leaned forward and reached for his t-shirt, pinching a piece of the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. She pulled him forward. He resisted, glaring at her before taking one small step. Then another. She scooted slightly forward until their hips met and she fanned her hands out on his stomach.

"I just meant...I didn't...we have to stop," she said quietly, looking into his eyes.

"I can see that...with the pulling me closer and all," he replied.

Her hands slid around his waist and she twined her fingers on his lower back. He tilted his head curiously. His hands still hanging at his sides.

"This can't--," she stopped, his fingers on her lips.

"I know," he said, his fingers sliding from her lips to her jawline. Testing the smoothness. Testing her reaction. Her eyes fell shut as she expelled a shaky breath. It almost felt as if it went right through him. He leaned down as she leaned forward, their lips meeting in a fury of nipping and low moans of "Jesus."

A ding shook them both.

He pulled his hands from her hair and reached behind her, turning off the coffee machine as she removed her hands from under his shirt.

"You should go," she said and lowered her feet, releasing him from her hold.

He nodded and stepped away, before he slipped up and said 'screw it,' going for round two. He turned and left the kitchen. She heard him moving around her living room as he gathered his jacket and patted his pockets for his keys. Finding them, she assumed, he opened the door and she heard him pause.

"You owe me coffee," he said, loud enough for her to hear.

"I'll put that on my list of things that are never gonna happen," she replied. She heard him chuckle lightly.

"See you monday."

"See you monday," she said. The door closed quietly.

She hopped off the counter and went into her living room, wondering if she could ever look at this room the same way again. How could she walk out her door everyday and not think of him?

You have to. It's over, she chanted mentally.

She systematically went through the room, picking up her clothes and straightening things that gotten knocked over, spraying febreeze to the get rid of the smell. She laughed to herself when she realized they had toppled some books off her shelves. Unwillingly, she heard his voice in her head, "Damn. I was trying for the whole bookcase."

She couldn't help it, she laughed even harder. Great shaking laughs that shook her entire frame, bending her over, stealing her breath knowing how much he would have enjoyed this.

Once the fit passed, she wiped away an errant tear and set to fixing her books. She was straightening the bottom shelf when Chase walked in.

"Hey love," he said, breathless. It seemed like he had been running. He came in and dumped his things on the couch. She went to greet him but froze as she realized her bra was lying by the table, rumpled and half under the couch.

"Sorry I'm so late. Went to grab breakfast with some people from work. It was downright hellish tonight," he said, passing her and headed for the kitchen. "You made the good coffee? Oh thanks babe," he rustled through the cabinets, mugs clanking as he grabbed one.

"You probably wondering why I'm out of breath," he said from the kitchen, "The carpark out front is completely full. Had to drive clear around the block just to find a space." He blew on his coffee before sucking it down, moaning with gratefulness.

Cameron felt her lungs finally expand as she walked over to the coffeetable and kicked her bra fully under the couch.

"That's great," she went to hug him and pasted a smile on her face. "I figured you'd need the good coffee after your shift," she said into his neck. She scrunched her nose up at the sterile smell that clung to him. He hugged back, mindful of his coffee mug.

"I missed you too love," he said.

She turned her head and realized her check rested right on the ball of his shoulder. And it felt all wrong.

---------------------------------------------

House stumbled into his apartment, his legs still wobbly from the previous night. Christ, he was tired. He set his helmet on his piano and headed for the bathroom when Cuddy stepped out of his bedroom, in her pajamas and her arms folded across her chest.

Oh not now.

He had taken a risk skipping his methadone dose and he needed to take care of that first. Then he could think up a good excuse for her. His stomached rolled. He remembered when he used to take pleasure in inventing lies just to see if she would believe him.

Medicine now. Self-pity later.

"Greg," she said quietly as he walked by her, down the hall way towards the bathroom. He could feel her eyes on him as he rifled through his medicine cabinet before landing on the desired bottle. He measured out a dose and threw it back, wondering how long he could delay her. Apparently not too long because he felt her hands on his back, rubbing small circles before sliding them around his middle, laying her temple on his shoulder blade. 'Where have you been?' seeped into the space between them as he felt her fighting back the words. Should he answer? Or could they pretend nothing is wrong like they have been?

"I'll go make you some coffee," she said. Slipping away and quietly padding into his kitchen.

So they were going to pretend. He should have known.

He turned the faucet on, hearing the water rushing as if through a fog and staring at it in a daze. It was like he couldn't get his body to remember he was at home. As if he jumped time zones from 'Cameron time' to 'Lisa time' and he was still suffering jet lag. He leaned down and splashed water on his face in an effort to wake himself up. Get a grip.

He needed coffee.

He came into his living room and found Lisa on the couch with two mugs in front of her, the smell almost making him drool. He plopped down next to her and reached for the mug, took a sip and realized it was instant...and it wasn't half bad. Maybe she's good for something, he thought and normally would have said if he hadn't looked at her and noticed the tightness of her lips. Nope. Better not.

She was watching the Bachelor, a show they soon found out they both like to make fun of, and she stared ahead like she was avoiding looking at him. He looked down into his mug, always at a loss in situations like this. His instincts told him to run but experience told him that, with women, that made things worse.

He set his mug down and reached for her feet, pulling them into his lap, and using his nail, he ran his thumb up her feet, from heel to sole. A small giggle slipped out. He did it again to the other foot and she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to yank her feet back. He refused to let go.

He teased her a couple more times before he began massaging the soles in the way she liked best. "Mmmmmmm don't stop," she purred. He froze.

_Don't stop. Don't stop. Ohhhhh fuuck!_

He returned to her feet, massaging deeper.

"Tell Wilson the flowers were nice," she said. staring at the t.v.

"Don't know why he should get the credit. I paid for them."

"You suck at nice gestures. Clearly a dead giveaway that they were not your idea," she glanced at him and smiled. "But I appreciate them all the same."

"You better with what they cost," he grumbled. "You'd think they'd know we're in a recession."

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Author's Note: So sorry about the delay folks. It's been difficult to write with my new job having me on the computer all day. By the time I get home, staring at any screen just plain hurts. But I muscled past it after seeing yesterday's episode and the moment-that-shall-not-be-mentioned-but-totally-made-me-gag. I'm already on the next chapter and I'll try to keep posting on at least a weekly basis. Thanks for your support and your patience. ^_^


	7. My Stupid Mouth

Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to write this part but fyi, I don't own anything.

Chapter 7 My Stupid Mouth

"Oh fuck," Cameron squeaked, panting into House's neck.

"With a side of holy shit," he muttered back. He had his palm on the wall behind her to steady himself.

He'd been good. He'd avoided her for two long weeks after the monster truck show, trying to lose himself in his work, hoping it would screw his head on straight. Until he saw her through the glass wall in his office in the middle of the day. He didn't know why she was on his floor. He briefly wondered if she had sought him out to have the 'Why won't you talk to me?' talk. So when he ducked into a supply closet to avoid said conversation, he didn't expect her to follow him, or pin him against the wall...or for her pants to come off.

What was it with him, her and wall sex?

He gently set her back on her feet before reaching down and pulling up his pants, keeping his eyes fixed on the cleaning solutions on the shelf next to them. It hit him then that they just had sex in a supply closet.

"How Grey's Anatomy can we get?" he said to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing," he paused. "Bad joke."

As she put her feet through her scrubs, she noticed that she never even took her shoes off. She mentally cringed. She tied the drawstring, still feeling his hands clawing at it andrisked a glance. She found him staring...hard.

"What? My hair?" She hastily pulled it into a ponytail.

"Yeah...your hair." He stepped towards her and smoothed it down as she began straightening his jacket.

"Don't," he said, stopping her. "If my clothes are straight THAT will make people suspicious." He tried to smile but he knew it looked like a grimace.

She dropped her hands, unsure of what to do or what to say.

"I'll leave first 'cause I have to get back. No one will notice if you're missing for a few minutes," she said, business-like as she picked her labcoat off the floor. "Wait fifteen minutes, then leave."

"You've done this before," he stated.

She looked up from her buttons, her fingers frozen.

"Fifteen minutes. Any earlier and someone will notice."

"Was it a teacher? Another boss?" he paused. "Your husband?"

She walked towards the door and stopped.

"You will be congratulated...if we get caught, you'll get a pat on the back. Wow, you nailed Chase's girlfriend. Great job." Her fingers tightened on the handle. "But I...I won't be able to get a job without this following me." She moved to leave when he spoke.

"Maybe you should've never followed me in here."

She looked over her shoulder. "Remember, fifteen minutes."

He nodded as she stepped out and looked around. She slipped away, head down, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

He leaned against the wall and looked at his watch when he noticed a blue folder on the floor, partially under the rack of cleaning products. He pulled it out and saw it was a patient file. Flipping it open, he came to a post-it note tucked into a corner._ Just to kill time. Drag it out as long as you can. -Cameron_

He smiled. So she had actually come to see him and not to bust his balls. He underestimated her. He seemed to be doing that a lot ever since she quit. He shook his head as he continued skimming and realized what the patient's problem was. Too easy, he thought. Yet he was still going to present it to his team just for fun. He could kill time and screw with them. Perfect.

He flipped the folder shut and looked at his watch. Time to go. He tucked the folder under his arm and pushed open the door, not caring who saw. By now, the staff was used to him popping out of unexpected places trying to evade Cuddy. And yet...he gave a quick scan of the hallway; he couldn't help it. Every step he felt watched, like it was written across his face "I fucked Cameron and it rocked!"

When he reached his office, he found Wilson in his chair tossing around his favorite tennis ball.

"How do you feel about Texas?" Wilson asked.

------------------------------------------------

"You'll leave at the end of the week."

"Do I get a say in this?"

Cameron sighed and put her head in her hands.

"It's not going to be that bad. You sit through a lecture in the morning and drink margaritas on the riverwalk all night. I actually had a lot of fun on the last one."

"But why does House have to go? And I have to babysit him?"

Cuddy came around the desk and leaned against the front, facing the couch Cameron was on.

"You're the only one who can control him."

"As I recall, that didn't work so well the last time."

"Okay, control is the wrong word. What I need is for you to just make sure he doesn't completely embarass this hospital. Keep him occupied, take him sightseeing, drug him all week for all I care. Just...get him out of my hair for a week."

Cameron crossed her arms over her chest.

"Please. I really need this," Cuddy pleaded.

"Lisa," Cameron paused. "What is this really about?"

"We-I need space." Cuddy leaned over and shuffled some papers that clearly didn't need shuffling. "And that's all you need to know."

"I'm not a human leash."

"I know, I just..there really is no one else."

Cameron stared hard at the floor.

One week. Alone with House. In a party city. After what they just did today? That was just asking for trouble. And yet weren't they already in deep as it was? Hadn't she just fucked her boss' boyfriend five hours ago? Her skin crawled.

"Okay," Cameron said, not meeting Cuddy's eyes. "I'll do it."

Cuddy smiled wide and stuck out her hand. Cameron reached forward and shook it, finally meeting Cuddy's eyes.

"I want an allowance."

----------------------------------------

Cameron clutched the styrofoam cup as she fretted over her situation. _Why do I have to be so effing nice? _she thought, as she mentally berated herself for her stupidity. To think that the monstertruck show was a one-time thing. Believing that House avoiding her didn't hurt but was actually a blessing, allowing her to focus on Chase and reviving THEIR relationship. Only for all her hard work to fall apart as soon as she saw him sitting in his office, staring off into space. Looking so. Damn. Good. She forgot the reason why she came upstairs, which was to give him a chance to flex his sarcasm muscle and screw with people. His two favorite things. And when he walked into the supply closet, she only followed him to prove he couldn't elude her.

Her first mistake was looking into his eyes.

She saw the lust, even though he tried to hide it, and it reminded her of that night and how she hadn't cum like that before or since. She couldn't take the wanting anymore.

She put her forehead on the table and pushed her coffee to the side.

"My stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid mouth," she muttered under her breath.

"I happen to like that mouth. It has feelings too, you know."

She rolled her forehead side to side on the table, not needing to look up to see who it was.

"Not now House," she groaned, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

"And here I thought it was whorish to kiss and stab, but screw and ignore is WAY more insulting," he said as he plopped into the other side of the booth. "I'm so proud...tear"

She glared at him. "I said not. Now."

"Oh I see, you're mentally preparing for our trip, Wilson filled me in. I'm thinking we should christen a balcony next...or the minibar."

"Cameron?" Chase meandered over through the tables, coffee cup in hand.

"What are you doing here? I thought the E.R. was slammed."

"Actually, if you don't mind, your girlfriend and I were in the middle of planning our next tryst. Which is a little difficult to do with you standing here," House replied. "So.." he made a shooing motion with his hand.

Cameron gaped, fish-mouthed.

"You son of a-" Chase began.

"Bitch, yeah. Heard that one before," he said, getting up. He stood facing Chase, staring down into his eyes. "You should try son of a whore, it packs more of a punch. Or didn't your mother ever teach you how to swear?"

They stood chest to chest, Chase glaring, House smirking before Cameron stepped between them and pushed them apart. "Chase," she said drawing his attention to her. "Cuddy has me going to the San Antonio conference next week."

"But I got this weekend off."

"I know but," she hesitated and glanced at House, her palm flat on his chest, keeping him behind her. "There was no one else."

Chase's nostrils flared as he visibly struggled with his anger.

"Not here," Cameron said quietly, her hand on his chest as well.

"Okay. I'll see you at home," Chase replied, and abruptly turned and walked away. Cameron's hand fell limply to her side.

"That was really stupid," she said, her other hand still on House's chest. He noticed and looked down as her fingers slightly caressed his shirt before she lowered her hand. She was still facing the direction Chase had gone. "I have to go," she said.

She started to follow Chase when she remembered something. "I'll text you later," she said, low enough that only he would hear. Noticing his smirk, she added, "And no, not for that." She wanted to laugh so she turned and continued on, hoping he didn't see. He did. He always did. She didn't even have to turn around, she just knew.

_My stupid mouth._

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	8. The Proposition

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the storyline.

Chapter 8 The Proposition

House was at his piano when heard her timid knock. Cuddy was home with the baby and he should be wallowing in guilt, but he wasn't. She knew he wasn't the daddy type and was never going to be. He pushed away from the piano and walked to the door, trying to will away fantasies that had been playing in his mind all day since...

He opened the door. She leaned against the doorframe and, as usual, walked past him without an invite, as usual, and stretched out on his couch, shedding her shoes and jacket, as usual, and yet...he felt a change. The way her eyes slid down his body was lewd now. And when she walked past, going out of her way not to touch him, only made him more aware of her presence, like he could feel the air part as she moved through it. He closed his door and sat down at his piano to maintain his distance.

"Where's Chase?" he asked, slightly turned towards her.

"Got pulled for a surgery."

"Cuddy?" she asked.

"Home," he replied, turning towards the piano.

He began tinkling out a nonsensical tune, traveling up and down the scale as Cameron closed her eyes. He effortlessly flowed into classical to blues to pop. After he finished "Fields of Gold," he stopped. She cracked open an eye and saw him shuffling through a stack of papers that she assumed was sheet music. "Yes," he whispered, apparently finding what he was looking for, and began to play a slow, haunting tune. She recognized it but she couldn't remember from where. The answer danced around her fuzzy consciousness until it hit her.

"You saw The Fountain?" she asked. She turned into the couch and snuggled in.

"Yes. I am known to like thought provoking movies on occasion...preferably with a naked cancer chick in a bathtub," he replied, not missing a beat.

"You would," she said quietly. He almost didn't hear her.

She drifted off again and let the music rush through her veins like morphine, heavy and heady. Lulling her body into a warmth so deep, so soft.

"What is the name of this song?" she asked.

"Go back to sleep," he replied.

"That's not it."

"It is if you want me to keep playing." He stopped briefly and she quieted. He started from the beginning and she smiled into the cushion. The last thing she remembered was thinking to herself that his couch smelled like cigars...

-------------------------------------------

She awoke to find that House had moved himself between her and the couch, and her cheek rested on his arm as the other lay loosely over her hip. He'd also draped a knitted blanket over them both and tucked his damaged thigh between hers. And their clothes were still on. She desperately wanted to shuck off her pants-and his-but she knew where that would lead.

_I must be the queen of mixed-signals_, she thought.

Telling him they have to stop and then jumping him in a supply closet. She shut her eyes tight._ Not a good move, Ally._

She flattened her palms on his chest, risking a glance to see if he was awake. He snored softly. She smiled. All the lines and tension on his face were smoothed away and the way his mouth hung open was comic and exaggerated. She reached out to touch him but hesitated. If he woke up, what would she say? What should she say? Whoops, sorry you caught me in a sentimental moment, let's go back to pretending this is just physical?

Screw it. She laid her palm on his jaw, softly raking her nails through his stubble. He closed his mouth and groaned softly, opening his eyes in confusion.

"Hey," he said, his voice rumbly from sleep as his eyes focused on her.

"Hey," she returned, still stroking his cheek.

His eyes softened as his hand wandered under the back of her shirt, softly rubbing her lower back. _Is this the side him that only Stacy knew?_ she wondered. Occasionally thoughts like these would cross her mind whenever he was thoughtful or soft. It felt unreal and left her scared and unsettled. Coarse and harsh she could handle but warm and caring kept her on her guard. It would be just like him to play innocent only to humiliate her in the end. But this didn't feel like a joke. It felt real. Too real.

She leaned forward and place a small kiss on his jaw. So light it felt like air across his skin and he turned down towards her and kissed her upper lip. Her resolve crumbled all over again.

"We...have...to stop," she murmured in between kisses. He smiled against her lips.

"As soon as...one...of...us...starts...to suck...at this," he replied in between more kisses. He pulled back to look at her. "And it's not going to be me," he said before leaning back in. Their lips crashed together as well as their teeth as he tried to get closer, probe deeper, unable to get enough of her scent and taste. He was consumed.

As soon as she felt him try to lift her shirt, she resisted and pushed him back.

"I know I'm giving you mixed signals and I know what I'm about to say is going to make you cringe but I just wanna know," she caught her breath. "Is there any way we could go back to the way things were before?"

She bit her lip in anticipation. Her whole body tense in his arms.

He looked at her with an expression she didn't recognize. A mixture of curiosity, humor, and a slight sadness around his eyes. He seemed to be giving her question serious thought while he stared.

"No. That's not the way things work, and I thought working for me you understood that by now."

She turned away and untangled her legs from his, moving to leave when he tightened his arms around her back.

"Wait," he said. "Hell, oh c'mon and let's get some sleep then." She raised an eyebrow. "ACTUAL sleep," he emphasized, "you know with the snoring and the REM."

"How can you be so nonchalant about...everything?" she asked.

"'Cause I'm hoping after lying next to my hot body, you'll cave and jump me again," he said with a grin. She wasn't smiling.

"What do you want Cameron?"

"It's not that simple."

"It is, you just don't like the answer."

"I think," she paused. "You're right and we should get some sleep."

House sighed and straddled her briefly before fully standing and headed to his bedroom without a word. He left the door open, which she took as a good sign, but she still felt a twisting dread in her gut. Had she screwed things up again? Why couldn't she make up her mind and admit what they both already knew?

Swallowing her fear, she bunched the blanket on the end of the couch and planted both feet on the floor. She could leave and she liked having that option or, she could give in again and dig her hole of self-hatred even deeper. She stood facing the door...and walked towards his bedroom.

She found him lying of the covers, his t-shirt and navy boxers on, his glasses perched on his nose while he held a paperback in one hand. A light beside him cast a muted orange glow throughout the room. Briefly, she had a flash of Chase in the same position at her apartment. She really needed to stop comparing them. She leaned against the doorway, unsure if she should enter, if he would even want her too.

Upon finding a place to stop, he slipped a bookmark inside and set the book on his nightstand. He took off his glasses, staring at her, unsure and she knew then that he still wanted her here. If not then he wouldn't have stayed up reading, he would've just went to sleep and shut his door. He was never one to give the reassuring word but, after awhile she learned the little ways he tried to show he cared. Most people just overlooked them, always searching for the big gesture when House doesn't do big gestures. But she does. And what she was about to ask was definitely a big gesture.

"I have a proposition for you," she said quietly, still in the doorway, focusing on her hands.

"If you need more money, take it up with Cuddy 'cause I'm not paying for sex, contrary to popular belief."

She glared but it lacked any real venom.

"This thing...we've been dancing around this for years, you could say?"

He looked at her curiously and sat up, bare feet on the floor and faced her directly. He nodded.

"So what if 'recent events' are just a bubbling over of a fantasy we've built up in our heads? What if, this is just something we need to get out of our system?"

"What are you suggesting?" he asked. "We O.D. on each other in the hopes that we get tired of one another?" He looked down for a moment. "You should really open your own rehab clinic. The junkies would looove you."

"I'm serious. What if next week, we satisfy our curiousity and at the end," she paused. "At the end we walk away...cured."

Silence.

"Can you do that?" he asked. No sarcasm. Ever the teacher, he wanted her to fully understand what she was proposing. She raised her chin defiantly.

"I can if you can," she replied and crossed her arms.

"What if, at the end, one of us can't walk away."

"That won't happen."

"How do you know?"

"You get tired of everyone eventually. That's just who you are and I...I've learned from my mistakes."

He looked away, unable to face her regret so openly. He heard her take a hesitant step...then another, followed by a soft yet sharp suction sound as she toed off her tennis shoes, leaving them by the door. He turned to see her peeling off her shirt followed by shimmying out of her jeans. She went through the motions without her normal hesitancy and it thrilled him inwardly to see her so comfortable in his presence. He could almost let himself believe this was his life and the not the real one he always found himself inevitably waking up to.

She walked over the stand in front of him, between his legs, a position she held numerous times before and placed her palms on both his cheeks, tilting his face upwards. Looking into his eyes, she leaned him and kissed him softly. The tenderness almost torturous in its beauty. This was supposed to be fucking. It was supposed to be mindless friction and dopamine releases so they could end the fascination with each other. Yet when she kissed him like this, swept her tongue over his lip asking for permission, he'd never had anyone who cared enough before. Mostly women just pounced on him after he flattered them excessively. Not one made him feel like his kiss was a gift, that his consent mattered. His whole life, no one cared how he felt about anything. Why did it have to be her to give him this?

He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her down on top of himself and still kissing, he maneuvered them under his sheets, popping off her bra as she slid her hands under his boxers and gripped his ass.

He found himself finally looking forward to going to a conference.

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	9. Little Of Your Time

Chapter 9 Little of Your Time

Faintly Cameron heard a buzzing in the distance, and snuggled deeper under the sheets. An arm was loosely draped over her naked hip.

The buzzing stopped.

Then started again.

"Can you answer that...like now?" House grumbled, rolling away and putting his pillow over his head.

The sunlight peeked in through the window and stung Cameron's eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Shit!"

She panicked. Jumped out of his bed and flew around his apartment, gathering her clothes, and avoiding her phone. She needed time. Just a little time. What the fuck was she going to say?

House watched her, amused. A smirk tugged as his lips.

"Where's the fire?"

"At his apartment. Where I should be," she retorted, jamming her legs through her pants and swiveling her head around looking for the rest of her belongings. Clothes? Check. Purse? In the other room. Phone? Still buzzing incessantly in her pocket. She lunged for her shoes by the doorway and struggled to stuff her feet into her sneakers. House watched her frantic scramblings and felt bitterness seep into his mouth.

"Shouldn't you shower first?" he asked while propping his head on his hand.

"No time."

"What about--"

"I said no time House!" she said, her voice slightly raised in exasperation.

She abruptly left the room as House rolled onto his stomach and inhaled deep the musky odor, trying to hold on to the memories. He wished she didn't have to leave like this. He even wished, to his increasing guilt, that it was an accident at the hospital that called her in and not an irate, worried boyfriend...who wasn't him. Distantly, almost through a vacuum, he heard her racing around his apartment as she made sure she didn't leave anything. Then she stopped.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I was just---I was out with my frie---will you let me fi--Fine. If that's how you fe--whatever. Bye." She slapped her phone shut.

While she had been on the phone, House crept silently down the hall and stood in the doorway, half in shadow. He listened while they argued, not sure if he should step into the room. He heard her foot anxiously tapping on his wooden floor until her foot slowed and the tears started. Sobs she tried in vain to muffle.

He stepped into the early morning light and spotted her hunched on his coffee table. A creaking floorboard alerted her to his presence. Immediately, she turned away from him, furiously wiping her eyes and sucking in breaths. He inched closer, timidly until he was close enough to reach out a hand and lay it gently on her shoulder. She turned towards him and buried her head in his stomach. Her tears slowly seeped into his shirt. He struggled with the awkwardness of the moment but his desire to ease her pain won out. His arms settled around her and pulled her close while she twisted his shirt in her hands.

He didn't know what sparked her tears. Part of him hoped that maybe her and Chase were really over but his instinct told him that wasn't the case. The bastard probably said something that hurt her, more deeply than he probably realized, and the thought of her going back to someone so thoughtless made him lightheaded with anger, clutching her closer. Soon her sobs quieted and she began to breathe evenly, taking slow, deep breaths. She released his shirt. She didn't move away.

House, however, stepped back and got on his knees in front of her. He held her hands and stared at them. Slowly rubbing circles with his thumbs on the back of her hands.

"Leave him," he said gruffly. He looked at her cautiously and looked away. Cameron ripped her hands from his and pushed him back.

"Not this again," she muttered and retrieved her purse from her couch. She rummaged through her purse while he stood shaking his head.

"Then get out," he said evenly. His glare rooting her to the floor. Her mouth hung open.

"Or you can make yourself useful and get on her knees, whichever you prefer."

She threw her purse on the couch and stood her ground, the coffee table between them.

"I'm not your whore."

"That's funny. I was under the impression that if it walks like a whore and talks like a--"

While he was talking, he walked around the table until he towered over her and spit out the final word.

"Whore."

CRACK!

Her hand stung from the slap. His face reeled to the side, but he turned back with a smirk on his lips. He tested his jaw before setting his teeth together. She turned to walk away when he grabbed her arm, forced it behind her back and propelled her face forward into his door.

"Oomph"

The air pushed out of her as her cheek was pressed against the wood, panic rose into her throat. He molded his body to hers, chest to feet, angry with her rejection and tired of being passive about what was going on between then. He wormed a knee between her thighs and moved her legs apart, all the while trapping both of her hands over her head in one of his.

"I know a part of you is struggling with your skewed morality complex," he growled into her ear.

She felt his other hand slither under shirt and her bra, roughly palming her breast. "But tell me you don't think about me when your with him." He rolled her nipple between his fingers. "That you haven't missed me these past two weeks." He abandoned her breast and placed his warm palm flat on her stomach, feeling her nerves tremble under it. "And just in case you're thinking it, no this is not the methadone talking." His hand inched south and she tried to buck him off.

"Get off me," She said through clenched teeth.

"Make me," he retorted. "Say the word and I'll stop. Honest." His fingers slipped into her jeans and she remembered she forgot to put her underwear on.

"Stop."

"Hmmm....your lips say no but THESE lips," she gasped as he pushed two fingers inside, "don't lie."

She hated him. Hated this. Hated herself and her body's reaction to him, because despite what she knew to be right and true, she could still feel herself getting wet for him all over again. She tried again to buck him off but instead he curled his fingers, ripping a gasp from her.

"Ahhh!"

"That's my girl," he purred.

This was wrong. All shades of wrong. She shouldn't be getting turned on. He shouldn't be unbuckling her pants and his. They shouldn't be on the cusp of another lapse in judgement against another door. However, despite her "skewed morality complex," their pants were still around their ankles and he was still hot and hard inside her, holding her hands above her head; the helplessness heady in a way.

She wondered if his preference for upright-sex was just a novelty now that he could do it. Until his free hand snaked between her legs again, stealing her thought as he rubbed the sensitive nubbin while she moved against him.

"Rule number one," he grunted, "when you're with me, you don't mention him. Got it?" He punctuated his last words with a hard thrust.

His hot breath in her ear sounded like she was in a wind tunnel preventing his words from registering.

"Got. It?" he growled again with two hard thrusts.

"Yes!" she cried out.

"Yes what?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "I won't mention him, I'll turn my phone off, just please?"

She was ashamed at how easy she gave in. Knowing House she should've held out longer but she wasn't thinking. All she could feel was how close she was and how just one more push and she'd be flying into oblivion.

He smiled against her ear, angled his hips and thrust deep, sending them both over the edge. Warmth coursed through her as she snapped her head back, her mouth frozen in a silent 'O'. His grip on her hip was almost painful. Distantly she realized it was probably going to bruise.

Softly the heat left her and she became aware that House still had her arms above her head.

"House?"

"Greg," he panted slightly. "Call me Greg. Rule number...two: outside of work we're just Greg and Allison."

She nodded. He didn't seem to realize this position was getting uncomfortable. She tried again.

"Um-Greg?" His name felt awkward on her tongue. "My arms?"

"Oh."

He released her and stepped back, uncertainty filling the space between them.

"Do you wanna," he paused and scratched the back of his neck. He felt cool air on his legs as he tried to reconcile himself with what the hell just happened. He wasn't the forceful type. Apparently he was wrong.

"You wanna stay?"

She turned and leaned her back against the door, neither making a move to pull up their pants.

"Yeah, I'll stay if that's alright with you. I'll deal with-" she caught herself, "what's-his-face later."

She kept her eyes on his face, knowing he expected her attention to drift to his scar, but she'd seen it already. Knew how he felt about it. She was still trying to get her mind around what she let him do to her. How much rope would she give before he strangled them both?

He stepped out of his pants and she followed suit, as he headed for the bedroom for a much needed nap. Once he was under the covers, he shrugged off his shirt and felt the bed dip as she joined him. Her arms came up around his chest, her breasts pressed against his back.

She kissed the back of his neck and he knew then she needed to know.

"I broke up with Cuddy."

He felt her freeze behind him.

"Not for me?" she asked. He rolled to face her. She had a fearful look on her face.

"No. It was done long before this happened," he said, running his fingertips along her bare arm.

"You didn't tell her--"

"Of course not. Hell hath no fury like an enraged hospital administrator. Contrary to nurse gossip, I like my job...and my balls." He tried to smile at his own joke but he faltered. She rolled towards him and pressed her cheek against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be. It's what happens. People leave."

She leaned back to look him but he stared pointedly at the wall behind her. She held his chin and pulled him down to face her. Softly she kissed him. He pulled away.

"Sleep," he ordered.

She searched his eyes and wrapped her arms around him and he did the same to her. In the back of her mind, however, the argument she was going to have with Chase sat hauntingly heavy. She couldn't shake it. She hated conflict but she breathed deep, breathed 'Greg' in and swallowed the fear of retribution. Chase would live if she was gone a few hours more.

_I just need a little time_, she thought.

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Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews and your patience. It really does keep me going knowing so many of you dig this story. For those of you that are interested, I've started a blog for all my thoughts that aren't centered on House (they're rare thoughts, I know). So if you liked to read some poetry, know what I think about movies, music, or life in general, feel free to head over to .com (the link is also in my profile) and tell me what you think. I'm always open to suggestions and I love to hear from you guys. Don't forget to review. Thanks again. ^_^


	10. Closer

Chapter 10 Closer

Allison opened her eyes to see the bright, blue sky through the window over Hou-er-Greg's shoulder. He was still asleep, his head on the pillow, facing her. She was close enough to feel the heat radiate off of him like a furnace. She snuggled closer.

Part of Allison wanted to sit up and glance at his clock but another part, the one steadily gaining dominance, told her to lie there and not move because maybe--just maybe--if she didn't move than neither would time. No Chase to answer to. No job to hide behind. No more pretending that she was happy with her choices when the only choice she was happy with was convincing Chase to move back to Princeton Plainsboro.

Funny how Chase never asked her to call him by his first name. She just thought of him as Chase and that's the way it stayed. The same for him. But 'Greg' was different. He demanded honesty from her. Greg knew everything she was capable of and wasn't afraid when she stepped outside of what was expected. In fact, he loved it.

_How could we've gone so wrong, _she thought.

Greg's finger twitched on her hip and she brought her gaze from his chest to his eyes. He scrunched his nose like a little boy's before smacking his lips and cracking open an eye.

"You weren't mooning over me while I was sleep were you?" he asked suspiciously.

She smile to herself. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," he huffed. Pulling her closer, he slid his scarred thigh between hers and she tucked her head under his chin. "'Cause that's just plain creepy. I have enough stalkers at the hospital."

Small tufts of air slipped from her mouth across his collarbone as she laughed softly.

"I remember. And how is your oldest fan? Still writing you sonnets?"

He shivered comically. "Ugh that woman scared me. Have to remember to tone down the sexy around the older generation."

He felt her shake her head slightly while she smiled and placed a small kiss on his chest.

"I have to go soon," she said.

"I figured."

The resonating hum of his appliances vibrated in the silence. Neither moved.

"Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow or do you want to meet me at the airport?" he asked. An effort to be nonchalant.

"Airport," she replied. She opened her mouth to mention Chase but she remembered their agreement. He would know why the airport was better anyway. She could tell in the tightness of his shoulders when she said it.

"Ok," he said.

"I have to pee and make a phone call," she said.

She rolled away and walked, naked, around his bed before grabbing a his shirt and slipping it on.

"I want that back," he called after her.

He really didn't, he just wanted to be annoying. Which she understood by the middle finger she flipped him over her shoulder. He chuckled lightly. Rolling onto his back, he drifted off, imagining his hands slipping under that shirt and taking it off again. He smiled.

"What are you smiling about?" he heard her ask. He could've sworn she wasn't gone that long. The soft weight of her head settled on his chest and her palm was splayed across his ribs.

"Nothing," he replied and she left it alone. Privacy in their thoughts was something they both enjoyed. Even if he didn't believe that luxury belonged to other people. She knew him so well sometimes and then he would do something completely idiotic that only he understood the logic of.

"Thinking about me in there?" he asked quietly. Using his finger, he tapped her forehead.

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p.'

"Liar."

"Then why ask?"

"I was under the faulty assumption that you like to be honest," he replied.

She leaned over him, supporting her weight on her hands stabbing into the mattress on both sides of his ribs. "Drop the assumptions. You'll have more fun that way."

Mirth danced in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No one drops their assumptions. It's human nature to categorize and make predictions based on reason and logic. So to say 'drop the assumptions' is pointless because that's how we're wired. We can't control it."

Her smile slid off her face and her body sank slowly onto his stomach, propping her chin on her clasped hands. House could never stop reasoning and predicting, but she hoped Greg might. Yet after hearing his "people never change so don't ask me to" speech, she remembered that the two are one in the same. House is House no matter what he asks to be called.

She studied his eyes as they altered from triumphant to confused. She kept her face blank. His lifted his hand and drug his fingertips over her scalp. Her eyelids shuttered down.

"Don't like what I said?"

"Just," she paused, "Sometimes I love the way you think and sometimes I wish you'd just go with the flow."

He looked away and took a deep breath before facing her, his eyes tinged with sadness.

"I'm not going to change," he said.

"I've never asked you to. If you did what everyone wanted you wouldn't be you and I lo-," she caught herself, "love that about you," she finished.

He didn't seem to catch her slip, being too involved in the feel of her hair between his fingers. His nails lightly scratching the nape of her neck.

"You know I miss the brunette."

"I got tired of dyeing it," she replied. She leaned into his palm as it rested against her cheek. "Time to let the real me out, I guess."

He wanted to get into a debate about how hair color doesn't change who you are but instead he bit his tongue. Her face was so peaceful. This place they were occupying, so warm. He couldn't disturb it. He knew she'd called Chase earlier and they had made up. It stung how she could forgive him so fast. What burned worse was the fact that he could even be in affair.

He loved the truth. Craved it in all it's brilliant honesty. There were no gray areas with the truth. He could always know where he stood if he understood the truth in the situation. But here...

The truth of the situation was he was getting emotionally attached to an unavailable woman...and he couldn't--wouldn't stop.

Not when her weight on his stomach was comforting, or when the hint of a smile on her lips at his touch just made this thing feel right.

Could he leave her?

Yes.

Did he want to?

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::ducks projectiles:: Yes, yes I know I'm a tease but I couldn't leave you guys hanging too long. This chapter is a little short but once the trip gets underway, things will "heat up" so to speak. It is Texas, after all. Thank you all for your continued support. I can never get enough of reading your reviews and I cherish each and every one of them. I hope you enjoy and hang tight until I get the next one up. Peace. ^_^


	11. Mirror Mirror

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. That please belongs to Fox, David Shore, and anyone else with any legal standing.

Chapter 11 Mirror Mirror

Allison stared into the mirror of the nicest hotel she'd ever been in, another one of House's--er Greg's demands for coming to this conference, and she tried to mentally prepare herself for this week. There was no doubt that the conference was going to be a snooze-fest but secretly she revelled in coming this time with Greg. If she were going with anyone else, they would be in a Super 8 or forced to pay for better accommodations out of their own pockets. Was she wrong for loving the preferential treatment being with Greg got her? It was reminiscent of her fellowship days when all she had to do was say who she worked for and her patient was bumped to the top of the list.

Still, she couldn't stop staring at her reflection, wondering if she had the face of a cheater. She'd been muffling her mind's accusations ever since that first night at her apartment but here, alone with him, she couldn't pretend. Yes, they had separate rooms but the ajoining door seemed to mock her attempt at propriety. She knew she wasn't sleeping alone. It was only a matter of who would approach who first but she knew, in the quiet, honest spaces of her mind that she was diving into the deep end and it scared the crap out of her.

She looked down at her toiletries perfectly arrayed around the sink next to the hotel amenities, saw her suitcase in the mirror and felt dirty, trashy.

She needed sleep.

After sloughing off her clothes, she slipped between the perfumed sheets and immediately drifted off, hoping she had the courage in the end of walk away, because already she didn't feel as if she could.

---------------

She awoke to silence. She listened intently, trying to extend her hearing into the next room but heard nothing but the hum of her air conditioner. The darkness told her she'd only been asleep for a few hours and a part of her felt a prick of sadness not waking up with him. It was something she'd grew to rely on the past few days.

Deciding not to dwell on it, she rolled out of bed and walked over to the bathroom, plucking a robe off the rack before venturing over to the connecting door between their rooms.

Knock. Knock.

"Greg."

Knock knock!

"Greg?"

Silence.

She turned the knob softly and peeked around the door into his room. Much like hers, it had the spacious queen mattress, deep mahogony hardwood floors with matching headboard underneath the massive canopy and white sheets rippling from the breeze floating from the air conditioner.

"Greg?"

She crept upon the canopy and cautiously pulled the hangings aside only to find the bed empty. The outline of his form was still imprinted on the comforter but no trace of him was left, save a small note left on the pillow.

Went to the Riverwalk. Figured you needed the rest.

Be back soon. Call me if it's an emergency. -G

At least she assumed it was a 'G' given that his handwriting was usually illegible. Did he want to be left alone? Should she call?

She fretted, running her fingers over the note, until she decided to follow his example. Taking the note, she headed back to her room, carefully shutting the door and dove into her suitcase._Jeans. Nice shirt. Strappy shoes. _She mentally ticked each off her list before slipping each article on. Though she would like to just throw on her favorite tee and some tennis shoes, there was a possibility of running into old colleagues, or the possibility of making new contacts.

"Ok," she said to herself.

One last glance in the mirror and she headed out the door, patting her back pocket for her room key. _Check. _She forgoed the purse, thinking it would hinder her movement through the crowds but standing alone in the elevator made her wish she had it's comforting weight. She leaned into the corner, anxiety creeping up her throat. She closed her eyes.

The floor bounced gently under her feet as the elevator stopped. She stepped out, unaware of the splendor of the Mission-turned-Hotel. She saw a door that led onto the Riverwalk and had blinders on to everything else.

_Just get outside. Get outside and get some air._

She stepped into the cool air and felt herself relax. The knot in her throat had loosened, somewhat. Gingerly, she picked her way through the white tables until the reached the river's edge. The water was dark, cut into ripples as tourists floated by on large, blue tour-rafts.

God the noise. The blessed noise. Allison had never felt such a rhythm that permeated her clothes and vibrated through her skin. And she was only standing there. Still. Watching people rush past, some with margaritas in hand, others with cigarettes and beer flutes. Constant thriving movement. She decided to go with it. She wasn't exactly sure where Greg was but the joy of being in a new place propelled her to just follow her desires. So she followed the music.

Vaguely, underneath the flamenco guitars and hard rock yells, there was a thrum of something sensual that pulled on her feet, directing her through small groups of drunk girls and waving off the occasional "Free Margaritas!" guys. She walked with a purpose she wasn't sure of until she came upon a bend in the river and found it. Him. Dancing with a brunette. Actual dancing in a crowd of people, to a beat that she thought was Latin but extra notes kept throwing her off. But he was there. Across the river and yet she could feel the reckless joy in him from his ability to dance again. Until he noticed her.

She froze. His eyes widened and he lost the rhythm for a moment until the girl he was dancing with grabbed his hips and moved him back into the dance. He acquiesced but kept his eyes on Allison, slightly awkward now that he had an audience he was uncomfortable with.

Allison was the first to break their stare as she scanned the river for a path to cross. She didn't know why but she had to get to him. Now. Thankfully there was a stone bridge nearby and she pushed through the gathering crowd until she was on the other side. Now she could see the girl he was dancing with was stunning, much to her rising jealousy, but he still didn't seem to be paying any attention to that. The girl noticed. She followed his gaze to Allison before rising up on her toes to whisper in his ear. He nodded and kissed her hand, watching her walk away for a moment and then turning towards Allison.

She wanted to go to him. Claim him. Kiss him hard until everyone knew clearly who he belonged to but she held back.

The song ended and everyone clapped but Greg, who was still staring at her. She could see the beckoning finger in his eyes and she shook her head. Hold strong, she told herself. He smirked believing her resistance was only a token. He crooked his finger with a "Get your ass over here" grin and waited...and waited. She stood her ground. He held up his hands and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What more do you want from me?" he seemed to say silently.

She just smiled and relaxed her stance. Further proof that she was not moving any time soon.

The stare-off continued and drew a few bystanders wondering if a lover's spat was about to bubble over.

He ceded defeat but his walk gave away nothing of the sort. He walked towards her with a slinking grace, his gray button-up shirt billowed behind him for a moment. The wind pressed his black tee to his chest.

"Hey," he said.

That's when she realized he was in front of her. She looked up.

"Hey," she replied.

"I wasn't looking for you," she blurted out. He smirked and moved to stand beside her.

"It's called the Samba."

"Huh?"

"The dance," he motioned toward the dancers, "it's called the Samba. I learned it when my father was stationed in Rio."

"Oh," she said to herself.

"You don't want to know why I learned?"

"I know you'll tell me when you want to." She kept her eyes on the crowd.

Things suddenly felt strained. He tapped his cane hand against his leg. The musicians kicked the volume up a notch.

"She walked up to me. I didn't approach her," he said.

Allison kept her eyes on the dancers.

"It was just a dance, nothing more."

She looked up at him and saw a tinge of nervousness in his eyes. Pretending the crowd forced her to, she leaned close, letting her hip touch his and pulled his head down so she could talk into his ear.

"I know. Thanks for telling me anyway," she said. He smiled and pulled back, their hips still touching.

"You wanna grab something to eat?" he half-yelled over the music.

She just nodded. It wasn't until he had her in his room with her breast in his mouth that she realized by grabbing some food, he meant room service.

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	12. On The Wall

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 12 ...On The Wall

It felt like the first time, pressed up against a door inside his room, his hands down the back of her jeans, her shirt on the floor minus a few buttons in the warm light of the room. Yet it was different. The frenzy was gone but the force of her desire was still there. Beating.

He trailed his tongue down her neck to her nipple, popping the pebbled nub between his lips. He gave it a few swirls of his tongue before she pulled his head up, a wild look in her eyes.

"Bed," she panted. He nodded.

He stepped back, or maybe she pushed him, he wasn't sure. He felt himself in that space where if he wasn't touching her, it didn't feel real.

She shoved him through the canopy and onto the bed, and he let his hands rest above his head as he waited for her to climb on him. She stalked closer, letting her hips sway until she stood between his knees. Did she know she was slowly killing him? Giving herself so freely? Letting him know how much she wanted him? _Christ_, he muttered to himself.

He leaned forward and ran his fingertips from the back of her thighs, over the soft swell of her backside, and onto her lower back, flattening his palms as he pulled himself towards her, placing small kisses across her stomach. He felt her fingertips run over his scalp and warmth spreading down his back with each deep sweep of her fingers. She always revealed her feelings when she didn't want to.

Leaning back he shrugged out of both shirts before grabbing her hips and slamming her body on the bed. She let out a high pitched "AH!" in shock but he didn't give her time to think before he was on top of her, kissing her savagely. A wet mash of lips and tongues. He felt her pull back at first but eventually she relaxed into him, wrapping her jean-clad legs around his waist as he hovered over her, semi-standing as he supported his lower half that hung off the bed.

There were times when he was with her, and she wasn't sucking on his tongue or digging her nails into his shoulders, when his deepest, most annoying, niggling questions would surface.

_"Why did I let Stacy drag me in?"_

_"Why are you here with me now?"_

_"How could I let you get away?"_

And the most raw, the question that haunted him every morning that he woke up without her:

_"How do I let you go again?"_

Thankfully, she would always steal his attention, like the torturous grind she was doing over his erection right now, but the questions always hung back, silent as ghosts. Waiting.

He shrugged them off and brought his focus to the woman underneath him. Leaning back, he took in her shiny, puffy lips, smiling because it was because of him. She looked confused for a moment until he lowered his head and began kissing a trail down her stomach to the waistband of her jeans. She reached down to help him but he batted her hands away.

"Let me," he whispered.

Eyeing the buttons, he took a piece of the fabric between his teeth and pulled...and pulled...and pulled. She giggled. He huffed.

"You know that looked easier in a porno I saw once."

She leaned forward and cupped his cheeks. "I appreciate the thought, however, your teeth can be put to better use," she said, still trying to hold back her laughter.

She failed. It bubbled over and soon he found himself laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Do I know how to kill the mood, or what?"

"You didn't kill the mood," she replied. Then she undid the button and slid the zipper down, revealing she wasn't wearing underwear. "That's impossible at this point."

His eyes flickered from the smooth, waxed skin to her smiling face. Grasping the the waistband, he pulled off her jeans and she lifted her hips, assisting him as he pulled them off.

The sight of her bare before him stole his breath every time.

He leaned in, inhaling deep and felt her thighs shiver slightly. He assumed the other men she'd been with weren't very giving, given the fact that every time he moved down, her eyes widened a little in surprise. Their loss.

He kissed her inner thigh, edging closer to where she wanted him. The heat from her moist center warming his face. Unable to stand it any longer, her fingers clutched the back of his head and pressed his face into her pussy. He grin against the slick skin before spreading her open and giving her one long, flat lick of his tongue.

A whisper of a groan escaped her. He felt her hook her ankles behind his back. Then slipping his hands under each smooth globe of her ass, he pulled her closer and thrust his tongue deep, the way she liked, and wriggled it around.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" she babbled.

It spurred him on hearing her swear like that.

Then, when he felt her walls spasm slightly around his tongue, she pulled his head back.

"Your turn."

He frowned, confused.

She pulled him up, on top of her and rolled over until he was underneath her. He thought she wanted to get down to business but instead she climbed off of him and ordered him to scoot to where she was lying before. Assuming she had a kinky thrill up her sleeve, he acquiesced.

She reached for his belt, pulling off his pants in an almost clinical manner. Only mindful of her task and ignoring his stare. After he raised his hips for her to remove his jeans, she eyed his erection briefly, hungrily and then focused on his face.

"Look straight ahead."

He glanced up and saw that they were situated in clear view of the bathroom.

"For what?" he asked impatiently. Her lips curled into a smirk.

"Just look straight ahead," she replied, and suddenly engulfed him into her mouth.

The shock. The warmth. She'd never shown any inclination to do this before and he didn't want to press her, but _Jesus_ did she go at it with gusto. As he looked up, like she asked, he realized not only was he facing the bathroom, he was also facing the mirror, which gave him a clear view of her bobbing blond head over his lap. He sucked in a breath. Her questing fingers ran up his chest while she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked harder. He leaned down and took one digit in his mouth, lapping around it in perfect time with her tongue on his cock. He groaned again. No wonder she wanted to switch. She wanted him to have the same view she had moments earlier.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the mirror. From her smooth, pale back. The sound of her wet slurping. Sweat darkening the ends of her hair as he eagerly suckled her middle finger into his mouth. It was almost too much, as the tightening of his balls told him. He growled and nipped her finger as she tongued the head, occasionally dipping her tongue into the slit.

Then the warmth was gone. He looked down at her smiling face, her hand tight around the base, and something inside said _savor this_. He wished could keep that devilish grin on her face. _It's better this way_, he reminded himself as she stood and straddled his lap; his erection resting between them.

He felt caught, wanting to tell her how he felt about her but afraid to see her face go dark at the mere mention of his feelings. He knew it went against what she knew about him but so was what they were doing. Their whole arrangement to start with was against everything he stood for but...

"Gah!!" he yelled, as she slipped his cock inside with one smooth stroke, removing all thought.

"There you are," she breathed. "Thought I lost you for a second."

"Never," he gulped, "Never gonna lose me."

Embarrassed, he bit his tongue afraid she would stop but she seemed to ignore his slip. Instead, taking his hands and placing them on her back, she leaned back and bounced slowly. Up, down. Up. Down. Never was a simple motion so disarming than with her. He pulled her close, tasting her skin and loving the feel of her muscles jumping underneath his hands.

She pushed him back and his hands fell above his head. Her gaze determined, she slid her palms up his arms until her hands circled his wrists. He knew he could break free if he really wanted to. He didn't really want to. He let her set a pace. I slow grind here, a subtle hip twist there, and every upstroke she clenched her inner muscles until she wrung out a strangled moan from him. It almost felt akin to punishment. That's when it hit him: she was jealous of his dance partner.

He grinned at the possibility of her being jealous. The idea a little thrilling as he was very fond of serving other people a dose of their own medicine. Maybe now she would know how it feels to watch her with Chase. He doubted she would make the connection.

A nip on his neck brought his attention back to her as she rode him. Her pace quickened slightly. She brought herself down forcefully on him, her guttural moans matching his until he couldn't take it any more. He pulled free of her grip, flipped her over and began pistoning his hips. Her cries climbing in volume and pitch. He buried his head in her neck, tasting the salty sweat off her shoulder as her hands clung to his hair. He knew she was close, her telltale signs becoming familiar to him but she seemed to be holding back.

"Scream for me," he whispered into her ear.

"No," she whimpered, "Someone might hear."

"Do it," he ordered.

And she did. Locking her whole body around him, she came with Greg not too far behind.

As the feeling in his legs returned, Greg realized he was probably too heavy for her. He moved to roll away but she stopped him.

"Don't. I like your weight on me," she said, eyes closed and still panting.

He moved back because he didn't have the strength to argue. Before he drifted off, he remembered something he wanted to tell her.

"Allison?"

"Mm?" she murmured.

"You have nothing to worry about."

"Huh?" she asked.

"That girl. The dancer. You have nothing to worry about," he replied.

She stayed quiet for a moment and then he felt circles being traced on his back. It was enough.

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Author's Note: First off, a special thank you to Super-special-awesome-pirate for guessing correctly on the Samba reference. The movie is called Girl From Rio, by the way, and Hugh Laurie danced the samba pretty well. I thought since they're in San Antonio, I might as well throw that tidbit in there even though salsa and zydeco usually dominate the Texas latin scene. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, even if you just discovered this story right now. I appreciate it.


	13. Distractions

13 Distractions

"No."

"C'mon Greg, you have to go one conference during this trip."

"Whoa, whoa what's with all the dirty language?"

"What?"

"Conference. I came here for wild-crazy-monkey-sex."

Cameron blushed.

"Not the c-word," he continued.

"We have to go," she tried again but made no move to get off the bed.

"Ask Cuddy how that argument is working for her."

The conversation dropped onto the floor like a brick. _Of all the stupid things to mention_, he berated himself.

He went back to gently kissing the salty skin of her stomach, lying between her legs on top of her hips, hoping she'd see how he felt through his actions. He was horrible at words when he wasn't being insulting, but he knew most of the places on her body that made her shiver. That should count for something.

Ever since he woke up with his cock in her mouth and a smug smile in her eyes, they had been fucking non-stop all morning. With only a short break for breakfast, the only time he let her up was if she wanted to ride him or if she had to use the bathroom. He'd never felt so potent. It was like he was a bottomless bucket of energy and every time he thought he couldn't get it up any more, she would bite his neck or scrape his nipples and he'd be raring to go again. If only she would stop talking like they were actually going to go to a conference then hopefully the fuck-a-thon could continue. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

"We need to show our faces to at least one conference, so I don't get in trouble. You may have a get-out-of-jail-free card but she's till my boss," she said, face turned towards the balcony, still rubbing his head. He laced his fingers over her navel and propped his chin on them, studying the rise and fall of her breasts as she spoke.

"Or we could send the hotel staff to pick up some brochures, google someone's notes from the conference, and keep making the beast with two backs," he rattled off.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" she asked.

"Maaaaaybe," he replied, looking up innocently. She laughed.

"One conference." He groaned. "Just give me one conference during this week, your pick, and I'll leave you alone about it."

He shut his eyes and layed his cheek on her stomach, smothering the urge to whine until he felt her heels running up and down his back. He looked up.

"You're seriously bribing me with sex?" he asked. Allison smiled coyly, continuing to use her feet to massage his back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

Then she slipped two fingers in her mouth and spread her saliva across her nipples. Greg followed her movements with his eyes, mesmerized.

"Oh you evil, evil woman," he growled, crawling up her body and snatching her lips in a kiss.

He pulled back, panting and said, "One conference. That's all."

"Okay," she said and pulled his head down for another kiss as he pushed inside her.

"Don't think you can use this argument all the time," he told her, trying to distract himself from the muscles she was currently flexing.

"Don't think shoving your cock in me will-ahhhh-will shut me up," she panted as he moved her leg up to thrust deeper.

"Say it again."

He started a slow rhythm, thrusting deep and swiveling his hips, eliciting mewls and more nail marks on his shoulders.

"Uhhh God, what?"

"Cock. Say it."

Eyes closed, she smiled. "You want me to--uhh--to say how much I love," she gasped, "your cock?"

He grinned. "That too."

"Shut up."

"Gladly."

He leaned his forehead against her neck as he focused on bringing her over again; his muscles straining to the point of exhaustion. He knew this was it. After this he probably wasn't going to be able to move for a week, let alone get another hard-on, but as she held him close with her arms around his neck, her gasps and whimpers in his ear, he knew this is what he wanted for so long. To have her with with him, in this moment, masks aside. It was beyond any high knowing that when he woke up, she would be there, and relishing in that fact made him pound her into the mattress, the head board thumping thickly against the wall. He wanted her to feel him when he wasn't there, to remember that it was only this good with him.

At least, that was the plan until she flipped him over and began riding him furiously, not missing a beat. Still in shock, he laid still for a moment until she swiveled her hips and gripped him--hard. He grabbed her hips to stop her before he came too soon but she was relentless. She threw her hair back, eyes closed and kept on, her moans rising in volume, drowing out the banging headboard. He thrust up. She thrust down. Sweat pooled, making the sheet stick uncomfortably to his back but he didn't care. Their movements grew frantic and he reached between them, rubbing hard, making damn sure she came before he did. Their gasps got shorter. He could see the veins sticking out in her neck as they both edged towards the precipice.

"I'm gonna--I'm-Ah-AHHH!" Her eyes shot open and she looked at him with an expression he'd never seen before. He wasn't even aware of his own orgasm until he felt his head snap back into the pillow and his hips bucked recklessly, heat flooding his limbs, bright spots floating in front of his eyes. He felt her fall forward onto his chest with a wet _smack_ before he blacked out underneath her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Allison felt the soft sheets push into her palm under her clenching hand. Where was she? Hotel. Who was she on top of? She sniffed and the memory of last night came to her as sharp as the musky scent of sex in her nostrils. She ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth, trying to erase the filmy taste of him, her, them, and gently pushed herself into her sitting position, realizing that he was still inside her. She lifted up, firing flaring in her muscles, and he slipped out. As she sat back down, she looked at him surprised he hadn't awakened during her motions. She moved to get up, however, and his arms came up around her, locking and trapping her to him. She looked up at his face and saw he still asleep. She wriggled an arm loose and stroked his cheek.

"Greg."

He didn't move.

"Greg," she tried again a little louder. He scrunched his nose before turning his face towards the pillow.

"Greg!"

"Wha-what," he said, giving her a one-eyed glare.

"I need to shower," she leaned down near his armpit and made a big show of inhaling, "and so do you."

"Does this require moving 'cause I think my legs still aren't working."

She scoffed.

"Don't pfft. I thought about getting up and the image alone hurt. You try it."

She shook her head, appreciating the compliment but not understanding why he was exaggerating. He let his arms flop onto the bed as she pushed herself into sitting position, her muscles screaming the whole time. She moved to raise herself and the back and thighs felt like they were being stretched like a tightrope. She tried to swing her leg over him and winced. She tried again but the pain was too much. Instead, she scooted down his legs, ignoring his smirk before she could climb off of him. Gingerly she crawled up next to him and laid down on her back.

"Don't laugh," she ordered.

He snorted, then clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his chuckling. She raised her arm to punch him but winced and whimpered again.

"Oh god, we broke each other," she said.

Then she was laughing too. It bubbled from her chest and spilled out her mouth, she couldn't hold it back. They looked at each other and laughed harder and then groaned clutching their stomachs.

"Ok, laughing not a good idea right now," Allison said, trying not to have another giggle fit. "What treatment do you recommend, doctor?"

"Well, I'm sure I'm susposed to make some witty remark, roll over and go at it again but I think one more go and we're going to need wheelchairs."

"I think if we go at it one more time, we'll be the first people who fucked each other into a coma," she said, giggling slightly.

"Jesus, what the hell came over us?" she asked.

"I think that would you coming all over me, as I recall."

She grunted through the pain and swatted him on the arm.

"Ow! No fair. Hitting a cripple."

"We're both crippled now, we can't even leave the bed."

"We can call room service," he noted.

"We can't go to the door."

"You can go to the door."

She glared.

"What? You're younger, faster, stronger, female," he emphasized. "It makes biological sense that you can fight through the pain better than I can."

"Or you could just be extremely lazy and wimpy."

"You'll find most men are."

She sighed. They had to get up eventually. She felt grimy in places she didn't know had grime in them and the room smelled like the inside of an orgy. Thick. Pungent. Allison smiled. Despite her discomfort, and the smell, she couldn't deny she felt more sated than ever before in her life. Not even during her meth haze, had she felt so euphoric yet satisfied. Now if only she could get her legs to work.

"You owe me," Allison said as she sat up and swung her legs off the bed in one smooth motion. She turned towards Greg and saw he stuck his tongue out at her. "I'd give that a rest if I were you."

"What are you gonna do, yank it out?"

"God no, you're going to need that to pay me back."

She heaved herself off the bed and staggered, shaking towards the bathroom. A shower would fix everything. She gripped the doorway as if it were a life support and took a tiny breather before stepping fully into the bathroom. She flipped on the light and saw Greg smirking at her through the mirror. She flipped him off, then stood up fully and walked over to the tub, turning on the water. After adjusting the temperature to as hot as she could stand it, she stepped in, jumping at first, then moaning as the water pounded her sore muscles.

While her head was under the spray, she felt a cool breeze and a presence slide up behind her.

"I thought most men were lazy and wimpy," she said without turning around. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her to him; she leaned into his chest.

"Is this the part where I say 'I'm not most men' because that line only works in bad romantic comedies," he replied, wrapping his around her middle and clasping his hands over her stomach.

The water pulsed on her chest while she closed her eyes and let him kiss her neck. He turned them gently until his back was towards the spray and let out a groan, his arms tightened around her. They were approaching that level of intimacy that usually made Greg shut down but he wasn't this time. Neither was she. She stepped away and turned towards him, reaching for his face, pulling it down to hers. Lips meeting softly, experimentally, as if it were the first time and not the I-lost-count-because-it's-that-good- ith. His hands threaded through the sloppy wet strands of her hair and she let her hands settle on his hips, feeling more naked and vulnerable than she'd ever been with any man.

As the steam grew thicker and he kept kissing her as if he could do it all day, she knew it wasn't just sex. Maybe it should've hit her after the first time she stayed over at his place at his request, or when she began making his coffee in the lounge and he'd stay to chat even though he'd gotten what he wanted. There were so many times she had chosen denial over the truth but here, in this city, in this bathroom, kissing this man like he was the love of her life she couldn't deny it any more. And that fact made her want to cry. She kept her eyes shut, hoping he wouldn't notice her tears mixing with the water but his thumbs gently swiped at her cheeks. She refused to open her eyes. If she didn't see what she feared shining from his eyes, then it wasn't there.

"Open your eyes," he asked.

She hung her head. He lifted her chin with his finger.

"Open your eyes."

She opened them and saw his eyes were just as red as she knew her own eyes were.

"You love me, don't you?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. He lifted her chin up again and she opened her eyes.

"The feeling's mutual."

It wasn't an 'I love you' but it had the same effect, making her knees weak and her eyes burn from holding back her tears. How could she think she give her all to this man and walk away unscathed? He held her close and she clung to him, half of her waiting to wake up from this dream and the other half waiting for the snarky remark saying he took it all back. Neither happened.

_I'm so royally fucked_, she thought.

-----------------------------------------------


	14. Never A Right Time

Chapter 14 Never A Right Time

She stared out the window, unseeing, leaving her sandwhich untouched while he wolfed down his reuben. He took her to a place he knew none of the doctor's would know about, it being a local secret, and he hoped it would ease her fears knowing they wouldn't run into anyone they knew. But she just kept staring.

Ever since they left the shower, she'd been silent, withdrawn. Not the reaction he expected once he confessed his love for her. He reached out and nudged her sandwich closer to her.

"They taste better fresh," he said. He felt like an idiot for being unable to come up with anything witty. He didn't know how to handle the situation. With Stacy, she said it first and he echoed her words. He felt them but he let her iniate each time the phrase was traded.

"I can't read your mind, spit it out," he said.

"I'm thinking about Chase," she replied.

His reuben sandwich suddenly lost its appeal. He dropped it back onto his plate.

She reached for his hand across the table and laced their fingers together, staring at her hands.

"I'm trying to figure out how to break things off."

"With him?"

"With him."

"Not me?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Never you."

Satisfied, House pulled away and went back to his sandwich, tearing off a hunk with his teeth and chewing with a slight smile.

"So send him a card," he said after he swallowed.

"You do not end a three year relationship with a card, House."

"Send him flowers and a card. As a matter of fact, add a bear. He seems like the type that would appreciate a bear."

She huffed and pushed her sandwich away.

"Delaying the inevitable only makes things worse. Make it quick and make it clean so WE can make with the nooky guilt-free," he said before adding in a serious tone, "I won't share you. Not anymore."

She stared at him, nodded slowly and went back to staring out the window.

"It's not the cure to cancer, Cameron it's a breakup."

"So how should I go about it, hmmm? Do I just get off the plane with you, hand in hand, and say 'Oh hey, d'you remember accusing me of sleeping with House? Well guess what, you're right! Here's your prize," her voice dripping with bitterness.

"It's not that easy," she finished and turned back towards the window.

It's not easy but it's simple, his words echoed in his mind from the last woman willing to leave another for him. Yet that was a different situation. He knew they would never work, at least deep down, because of what she did. He couldn't get past it. Still can't. No matter how much he loved her, his leg was a daily reminder that hung between them, but with Cameron--Allison he could trust. And it scared him.

Was she strong enough to be the "bad guy" for him? Should he even ask her too?

He stared at his sandwich trying to find the answer in the rye. He felt his pant leg lift as a cloth covered foot inched up his shin.

"You've got to give me at least a day," he said, looking at her with a small shrug.

"I know," she replied, smiling back. "Doesn't mean I can't torture you in the meantime."

She kneaded her toes in circles as her foot reached his thigh but her movements didn't seem sexual. He felt like she was trying to make a peace offering, letting him know they were still connected and she wasn't shutting him out. He liked the way she went about it; it was unexpected. The old Cameron would have grabbed his hand, looked him in the eye and pledged her undying love, but this Cameron--Allison; this new woman in front of him knew he hated sappy displays of affection. This Allison knew a touch, a glance, a smile was all that's needed.

He felt a small flash of pride as a mentor feels when his protege finally grasps the lesson.

He reached out and took her hand in his, her eyes widened.

Maybe she could teach him something as well.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked.

------------------------------------------------------

"FU-"

He covered her mouth and continued pounding into her. His jacket on the hook, as well as her pants, while her legs locked around him. He thought he needed a day--or five--but he was wrong.

After agreeing to leave and leading her to the back, a question in her eyes, he pulled her onward to do what he never thought he'd be able to since the day he met her: Have sex in the men's bathroom.

It was hotter than anything he could imagine.

The bathroom was clean--he wanted a fantasy not an infection--he just never thought she would go for it. Being wrong could have it's advantages.

The stall vibrated and groaned under his thrusts; he had to make this quick before anyone came in. Reaching between them, rubbing rough circles, he kept one hand between them and removed the other from her mouth to replace it with his lips. Her breath puffed into his mouth in short bursts before she clamped her whole body around him and cried out, tickling his throat and setting him off as well.

He broke away first and panted harshly into her neck. "Now I can check that fantasy off the list."

She stiffen momentarily but soon relaxed and shook her head.

"I know," she took a breath, "I'm supposed to be very angry that you used me like that," she took another breath, "but after cumming like that I don't see how I have a right to complain," she said and gently kissed the space behind his ear before tugging on the lobe with her teeth.

"You just won't be happy until I fuck you into that wheelchair, will you?" he groaned low in her ear. The breath from her laugh ghosted his cheek.

"You can try, and by all means, please try," she replied.

Slowly, let her down and pulled up his pants while she pulled her jeans off the hook and slipped them on. He watched her with a goofy smile on his face. Allison kept sneaking glances while she straightened her clothes, her smile just as ridiculous.

They exited the restaurant, Allison's face burning as one of the female customers seated by the restroom gave her a thumbs up.

Out on the street, Allison turned to take Greg's hand, reaching out for the warm heat but as her finger connected with his, she caught herself. He raised an eyebrow and started to reach for her hand until he remembered. They were in public again...right. she watched him clench his jaw and desire to kiss him again was almost overwhelming; to feel that muscle working under her hands while she tasted him.

Fuck it, he thought as he looped his arm around her, pulling her close. Her eyes widened.

"Stop clenching," he said.

"What about--"

"What about them?" he asked, wishing she would just go with the flow. "We're off the beaten path, plus," he gave her a squeeze and started them walking, "I wanna hold my girl."

A part of Allison melted but she tried to hide it.

"You know flattery will get you everywhere with me," she said, finally leaning into his embrace.

"See, I knew you easy."

"House?"

House turned around, his arm still around Allison.

"Cate?"

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Author's Note: I've been a very bad writer keeping all you lovely people waiting but that is going to change. I've just signed up for NanoWrimo, head over to if you want to join the insanity, and I'm going to be busy the whole month of November. So instead of making you all wait a whole month for a new chapter, I'm going to finish this story before the challenge starts. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I reread all your comments because they help push me forward through this story. Peace. (^_^)


	15. Realize

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. All rights belong to Fox, David Shore, and other people I can't remember with scary lawyers.

Chapter 15 Realize

Back inside the deli, House and Cameron sat across from Cate Milton, their eyes glued to their coffee cups, trying like hell to come up with any excuse for their situation. Cate watched them, amused at their discomfort, which unnerved House more because he knew she was on to them. The "we're friends" excuse they gave her outside was only going to go so far. That, and Cameron wouldn't let go of his hand under the table.

"So how long have you known House?" Cameron asked, taking the lead.

"A little over a year. He diagnosed me while I was in an exhibition in Antarctica."

House rolled his eyes as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. He despised the utter limpid banality of small talk. Say what you really want to say or shut up.

"So what did you think of the Lyndon event?" Cate asked, having run out of other mundane topics.

"Don't know. Didn't go," House replied.

"So which ones have you gone to?"

Silence.

"If you haven't been to events, what have you been doing the past two days?"

_Ohh FUCK! OH GOD! YESYESOHMYGODYES!_

"We've been taking in the sights," House replied with a smirk. Cameron stiffened as he dropped her hand and gripped her thigh.

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." Cameron bolted, almost knocking a waitress down as she ducked into the back.

"Sooo...affairs are fun." Cate nodded with mock amusement.

"Shut up." He shifted back and propped his legs onto the seat.

"Oh my god, I was right?" She stirred her coffee. "Wow, I was just kidding."

He fiddled with a salt shaker, slinging it back and forth between his palms.

Cate's expression softened. "What about Cuddy?"

"We broke up."

"And Cameron hasn't left Chase?" she asked.

The shaker stopped.

"Well I won't bore you with asking if you know what you're doing--" she began.

"I got Wilson for that."

"--But do you know what you're doing? Honestly?"

"You're making too much of this."

Cate laughed. High pitched and girly like he'd never heard from her before.

"Oh House, you still don't get it, do you?"

He glared at her.

"Whoa, tone down the evil eye there. I'm just shocked that a person so good at reading people couldn't see it."

His eyes turned fearful. "She doesn't--"

"No, no she loves you," House relaxed. "I'm surprised her boyfriend hasn't noticed it by now. No, what I mean is she looks like loving you is like heading to the guillotine."

The salt shaker suddenly became fascinating again.

"I'm just saying be careful with her," she reached out and covered her hand with his. "This is harder for her than you know."

Cameron approached the table with a barely veiled frown as a bell at the front door tinkled. Cate yanked back her hand and stood up to greet a sandy-haired man, kissing him quickly when he reached her and wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Well guys, thank you for keeping me company but Keith and I are going to grab something to eat."

Keith looked confused but followed her lead as she walked them to a more intimate booth tucked away in the back corner.

Cameron sat down where Cate vacated, and fidgeted, rubbing her hands over each other and looking every where but House.

"You told her about us," she said flatly.

"Didn't have to, she guessed."

"You talked to her about me? Before?"

"In passing, nothing to splash all over your facebook."

He rolled his eyes.

"Look, she's a friend, in the loosest form of the word. We chatted over the web while she was in Antarctica, and occasionally we keep in touch. I had no idea she was going to be here."

Cameron finally looked at him and the force of her fear stopped his heart. She really did look like someone headed to the chopping block. He never agonized over the fairness of what he was asking, but then again, he never expected for her to deny him either.

He reached out for her hand, palm up and she slipped hers easily into his grip.

He didn't know how to reassure her, but in that moment he felt the first twinge of an emerging willingness to try.

~*~*~*~

Back onto the boardwalk, Greg let go of Allison's hand. The cool breeze over her palm replacing his warmth. She itched to ask what they'd been talking about but Greg's blank expression told her questions were not going to be welcomed.

She missed his heat, the weight of his arm on her shoulders. The space between them was too wide and every person that passed through pushed them further and further apart. A gang of girls, four across, finally pushed Greg to the edge of the river and Allison waited until House could fight his way through to her. He tried but another group always seemed to be passing at the exact moment he moved forward. So he stood still, hands in his pockets, and he locked her in place with his eyes. People gushed past her peripheral vision in a blur, but his face stood out, a mixture of sadness and resignation. She stepped into the flood and weaved her way across to him; feeble excuses to people she crossed tumbled unheard from her lips, her attention only on getting to him.

"Do you want to see the sights?" he asked when she arrived in front of him.

She shook her head.

He reached out and pulled her close to him, her face mashed against his chest. She leaned away before anyone saw them but he wouldn't let her.

"Just for a second," he said into her ear.

She relaxed, her palms on his back, and cocooned herself from the outside world. _Just a moment. _The droning thump of his heart against her ear silenced her thoughts, and when he dropped his arms and she stepped back, she felt clear, open.

"Let's go back to our room," she said.

~*~*~*~

_Click._ She turned and leaned against the door, watching as he shed his clothes and climbed under the covers, almost as if they were going to sleep. It was still mid-afternoon but she closed the heavy drapes, plunging them into a muted darkness, light sifted through the fabric.

Was this going to be the only place they could be themselves? She thought while sloughing off her own clothes. He made room for her, lifting the sheet and she ducked under, shivering as the cool sheets made contact. Warm palms coasted up and down her arms but she kept her eyes closed. A soft kiss on her eyelid. Another and she allowed him to pull her into a tangle of arms and legs and hearts.

"I don't want this to end," she whispered.

"It doesn't have to."

"Can you promise me this won't change?"

His arms tightened.

"I can promise I'll try."

"Trying is failing with honor." He looked down at her. "I read that somewhere."

"Fine, I promise," he whispered and tucked her head under his chin. Her breath slowed against his chest and he wondered if she was awake. "Allison?" he whispered and waited. Nothing.

"I should've known I could never walk away from you."

Her breathing stayed the same.

"So much for overdosing on each other," he closed his eyes.

Her breath hitched and he froze.

"You are a much stronger drug than I thought," she said.

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	16. Appearances

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. The rights belong to David Shore & affiliates and Fox.

Chapter 16 Appearances

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Allison groaned against Greg's neck.

BANG BANG BANG.

Greg scrunched his nose and tightened his arms around her, his morning erection heavy against her thigh.

"House if you don't open this door and drag yourself to one conference, I am coming in there. I have a key."

Allison's nails pressed pinpricks of pain into Greg's arm.

"Wilson," they whispered.

Allison scrambled out of bed and ran for the door adjoining their rooms. She pulled the handle but a massive squeak rang out that Greg covered by groaning loudly.

"The bathroom! The bathroom!" he whispered fiercely and she dove inside, closing the door partially and buried herself inside a terrycloth robe.

"Alright, alright," House yelled as he got up and edged to the bathroom. His erection bounced proudly in front of him.

"Robe?" he whispered.

She thrust one out before taking notice of his predicament. He smiled.

"Later," he whispered.

She nodded and went back to her hiding place in the tub.

The banging continued until House reached the door and yanked it out, Wilson nearly knocking on House's face.

"Get dressed, we can still catch the second half of Leonard's event if we hurry now." Wilson brushed past House and stood in front of the bed, feet firmly planted and hands on his hips. House leaned his forehead against the edge of the door.

"Let's start with 'Hi, House. The reason I'm here is because...'"

"Because apparently, Cameron can't keep you in line long enough to go to a single event this entire conference so Cuddy sent me down here to play watchdog."

House screwed his eyes shut, "Oh really."

"Yes, really. Now get your ass in gear."

House grumbled and went to the closet. He figured it would be easier to give the appearance of compliance while he tried to find an excuse to boot Wilson out, but Wilson moved into his side-vision as he headed towards the bathroom.

"Wait." House hoped he smothered the panic in his voice.

"What?"

"You're not just gonna use another man's hotel bathroom are you?"

"House, I use your bathroom all the time."

"That's different. That was my apartment but a man's hotel bathroom is sacred."

Wilson shook his head, pushed open the door and flipped the switch.

"Okay wait." House ran to the doorway and flipped the switch off. "House-keeping hasn't been in here today and it's really a mess. Why don't you use the one downstairs."

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"First of all, you're bathroom is always a mess, and second of all--" his voice trailed off as he turned an surveyed the room. A high-heeled boot peeked out from under the bed-skirt.

"You met someone, didn't you."

House shoved his hands in his robe's pockets. "No."

"That's why you haven't been at a single event this whole conference, you've been screwing this entire time." Wilson paused. "Are you on Viagra?"

"NO," House said, affronted.

"So you have been screwing."

"Fine, yes, I met someone, we've been at it like rabbits, and she's really shy that's why she's hiding in the bathroom. Now please, show the lady some respect and go downstairs so she can come out and get dressed without being leered at."

Wilson nodded and House turned him around, propelling him towards the door. As they neared the threshold, House reared back to shove Wilson out, when Wilson ducked under House's arm and darted into the bathroom, flipping the light switch, the bathroom actually cleaner than he was used to seeing from House.

"Where is she?"

"I knew you would fall for the 'at it like rabbits' excuse," House replied smugly as he leaned against the bathroom door.

"But I saw the boot."

"Like I've never planted anything just to screw with you."

Wilson gaped fish-mouthed, scanning the bathroom clinically, desperately.

"So you knew Cuddy was going to send me?"

House smiled.

Wilson leaned against the counter defeated, then turned towards the shower curtain. It was closed. Wilson tried to remember if there was a time House ever shut his shower curtain when he wasn't using it.

It clicked.

Wilson smiled at House, feeling a trace of childish glee as House's smirk dissolved.

Wilson stepped forward, House moved, hand grasping for his coat as Wilson grabbed a fistful of plastic and yanked the curtain back.

Cameron smiled nervously, lying in the tub.

"Hi Wilson."

~*~*~*~

"So..." Wilson trailed off. He sat next to House on the bed, a comical tilt to both their heads. House tried to will away his erection as he stared into the mirror while Wilson wondered how sanitary the bed sheets were.

"Do not tell Cuddy what you saw," House said.

"Is this why you broke up with her?"

"No."

"You expect me to believe that."

"No, I expect you to lecture me, make me feel guilty about Cuddy, and then realize the futility of your speech when I ignore you."

They grew quiet, the gentle sounds of Cameron padding around in the next room.

"You care about her." Wilson said.

"Of course I care about Cuddy, there's history there but--"

"No, I mean you really care about Cameron."

The both looked down at their hands.

"Yeah, I--I care about her."

The footsteps stopped. House heard a rustling that sounded like a suitcase being rummaged through for theatrical effect.

"Oh Christ." House got up and called Cameron into the room. She stepped in cautiously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's easier to eavesdrop in here." he replied.

House turned to Wilson and put his arm around Cameron.

"Look, we love each other, we're having an affair and if you tell anyone you'll find a cane swinging from your anus."

Cameron covered her eyes. "How many people do you plan to tell before I have a heart-attack?"

Wilson gulped and looked at his watch, he was deeper in House's business than he was comfortable with.

"They should all be coming off break right now. We can talk about this after the event." He got up and fled the room.

Allison shrugged off Greg's arm but Greg pulled her back in again.

"House we need to--"

He pressed his lips to hers. Powerful with a desperate edge to the way his tongue stroked hers.

"It's Greg. Never forget that."

She nodded, staring at his back as he stepped away and began pulling out clothes, no care as to how he looked. She shook her head at his ensemble.

"What?" He unfurled a balled-up shirt.

"I'm not being seen with you dressed like you just left a bar."

She went into his closet and picked out a funky white shirt, a beige blazer, and dug around the bottom of the closet for his navy converse.

"There. Put these on."

He took the clothes from her and pouted. "I'm not your Ken doll."

She smirked and raked her eyes over his frame. "Of course not. You're anatomically correct."

She sauntered out of the room and Greg smiled to himself.

~*~*~*~

Thirty minutes into the conference and House almost wished he could feel the pain in his leg. At least it would take his mind of the speaker's bitter droning. He fidgeted, wishing for his cane, instead playing with the water glasses, wetting the tip of his finger running it around the rim. People turned. Cameron kicked him under the table. He looked at her confused. The speaker stopped and glared at House along with everyone else in the room. House kept on, looking confused at the onlookers.

"Oh I'm sorry," he covered his mouth with mock-embarrassment, "I was trying to use the few brain cells I had left that you were so intent on killing with your boring speech."

"Dr. House, always a pleasure."

"Likewise--NOT."

"House, are you trying to get fired?" Wilson asked through grit teeth.

"What?"

Cameron took the glass and set it on the other side of the table and the speaker resumed his speech while House stared at the tablecloth. He lifted the edge of it and rolled it into a sausage in his lap, playing with the edge of the fabric when he felt a cloth-covered toe rub circles on his shin. He looked at Cameron but her gaze was just as bored as Wilson's, eyes fixed on the speaker. Then he saw her shift her weight on her hip and felt her toe inch higher, pushing his pant leg up. He raised an eyebrow but quickly masked it with boredom, instead staring at the speaker while Cameron's toe abandoned his shin and instead inched further up his thigh. He scooted closer to the table, covering her foot with the tablecloth and pushed his hardening cock into the ball of her foot. They both shifted a little as she used her toes to tap-dance a maddening rhythm along his shaft, pushing and curling around him until he groaned, which he covered with a cough.

Wilson looked at the both of them but House and Cameron stared at the speaker, seemingly bored to tears. He raised an eyebrow at the two of them and then returned to the speaker.

Meanwhile, underneath the table, Cameron was stroking House into a frenzy. If Wilson had bothered to look closer, he would've seen the shine of sweat on House's upper lip or noticed that House was holding his breath, clearing his throat to cover a moan.

As the speaker wrapped up and said his final words, House covered his mouth his fist and expelled a breath through his fingers. He reached for Wilson's glass of water and gulped half of it down.

Wilson leaned over and put a hand on House's back. "Are you alright? Seriously."

"Yeah," House panted, "Yeah I'm fine."

Wilson looked over at Cameron and noticed a smug smirk which she covered with a fake yawn.

"Well," House cleared his throat, "we've done our duty," he turned to Wilson. "Can we go home now, mom?"

~*~*~*~

"I'm not going to ask what you two were doing under the table."

Wilson looked around everywhere but Cameron as she yawned again, a real one. House had taken off for the bathroom and Cameron dreaded the inquisition she knew was coming.

"Then don't ask."

"You told me you couldn't do it. Before, with your husband. I thought it made you a better person than me but now I see..."

Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"All the times I cheated I just wanted something new, someone who didn't hate me but you," he shook his head, "You didn't cheat on your husband because you loved your husband more than his friend, and you're cheating on Chase because you love House more."

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"As House so discreetly announced earlier. What's your point?"

"My point is you're human, and so is House, and despite what he may tell you or how he acts, saying I love you is a big deal to him. Though you may love him, may even leave Chase for him, take some time and think about what you're doing."

"Did you think about any of your affairs?"

"Yes," he sighed, "and that was my problem."

Wilson began held Cameron's hand in his as House came back from the bathroom.

"Haven't you heard of the rule 'Three's an affair, four's a crowd?'" House itched to assert his place between him but he couldn't with so many doctor's milling around. Wilson released her hand but ignored him.

"Well, my flight doesn't leave till tomorrow. What is there to do in this town?"

~*~*~*~


	17. Crippled

Disclaimer: Gimme a Don't! DON'T! Gimme a Own! OWN! Gimme a Nothing! NOTHING! What does that say? DON'T OWN NOTHING!

Chapter 17 Crippled

The yellow liquid burned down House's throat, eased only by the slice of lime Cameron passed to him with her mouth. Other doctors hooted and hollered, making Cameron blush and House smirk as he spat the chewed lime into his cupped hand.

For some reason, House took Wilson's request as a challenge and drug them both in search of the raunchiest, filthiest, low-down, hole-in-the-wall joint to get massively drunk. Which led them to La Rosa Bonita*, a pretty name with a not so pretty interior. Rich red walls surrounded them with chunks of paint flaked away revealing lighter shades. Cameron eyed the scuffed wooden bar, abused with deep gouges and the occasional "So-and-so wuz here." Wilson raised an eyebrow at the clientele that looked like an America's Most Wanted reunion. Wilson and Cameron initially froze when they entered until a herd of young doctors flowed past them, crowding the bar and dissolving the tension with the first shout for "Tequila!"

The chants rose again as it was Wilson's turn to lick salt off a blond doctor's neck. House clapped him on the back with his arm around Cameron. She'd started a little when he hugged her close, mindful of being in public, but everyone else was too drunk to care. She relaxed into him and took another shot from House.

"Bottoms up." He clinked their glasses together.

They both grimaced and House grinned as Wilson and the blond started kissing.

"You can never say I'm not a true friend," House said.

"Getting your friend laid makes you a good friend?" Cameron asked.

"No, getting Wilson drunk enough to actually pursue the girl he wants makes me a good friend." He motioned for another shot. "You should be so lucky."

Bzz. Bzz. Cameron pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. Chase.

_Oh shit._ She hadn't called since they arrived and now it was her last day. Oddly enough, she had forgotten about him. Sure, she remembered they were still technically together, and was thinking of how to break it to him gently but those were events in the misty future. Now, with a phone call buzzing in her hand, Chase violently forced his way into her present, the one she had been building with House.

House leaned over and checked the screen before turning away, his jaw muscle flexed.

"Answer it." He stared at the bottom of his glass. She stared at him surprised. "Go," he motioned towards the door. She flipped open the phone and moved past him when he grabbed her arm.

"House, wha--"

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and made a few swipes before he released her.

"Hurry back," he said. Dazed, she nodded.

He watched her head weave through the crowd as James disentangled himself from the blonde.

"You're just gonna let her go like that? What if they're making up?"

"It's ladies choice." House said.

"Are you being....adult?" Wilson asked. House glared. "I feel like my sense of the cosmos has violently shifted."

"Only you could get drunk off your ass and still be witty," House said.

"I'm not drunk," Wilson tried to sit on the stool and almost slid off onto the floor. "Okay I...am officially fucked up."

House motioned for the bartender and caught the sliding shot in his palm. "So am I."

~*~*~*~

Cameron returned and House frowned. He watched her maneuver through the crowd, head down, avoiding bodily contact and a part of him shut down. She was gone again. Before, at the deli, he could feel her slipping but his humor brought her back. Always brought her back but now...their eyes met through the crowd, he knew. _Fuck._

She came to his side and opened her mouth but House cut her off.

"Don't."

"But--"

"When you're with me, you don't talk about him, remember?" He pulled her close and kissed her temple.

"Yeah, but--"

"No buts, at least not till we get back to our room," he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She huffed but gave him a smile. She mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

"Now don't do that," he said and pulled her close again, kissing her full on the mouth. This time, she caved but he felt something missing in her kiss. Her fire.

~*~*~*~

They stumbled into the room, leaving Wilson at the bar with his new "friend." House fell onto the bed with Cameron not too far behind.

"How mad at me would you be if I told you we can't re-enact Girl's Gone Wild tonight?" he asked.

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Oh darn. I was so looking forward to that."

They shared a laugh.

"Seriously, I don't think I have another round in me."

Cameron reached out and slid her hand under his tee, palm flat, and inched upwards, raking her fingers through his chest hair and casually grazed his nipple.

"Are you sure about that?"

His slacks tented in reply.

He rolled over and kissed her. "God, what have you done to me."

"I should be asking the same thing," her voice caught in mid-whisper into a strangled moan.

"Wait, wait, wait," she pulled back and leaned on her hip. "There's something I need to tell you."

"You gotta be kidding me?"

She bit her lip

"Crap, you are serious," he rolled away from her, situating himself into the mattress and facing the window.

"I don't want to hear it," he mumbled.

Cameron hung her head but she knew he had to know. He deserved not to be blind-sided when they got back.

She crawled towards, flattening herself against his back and snaked her arms around his middle. He tried to pry her hands off his stomach but she held fast. She kissed the back of his neck, the soft hairs tickled her nose.

"I told him," she whispered.

He tensed.

"Say that again?"

"I told him," she paused. "About us."

House shuffled out of her grip and turned towards her, an odd shine to his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her, rolling them until he had her pinned to the mattress under his weight. He covered every inch of her face with kisses. The force of his relief overwhelming in its intensity.

But her guilt burned.

_Outside the bar wasn't much quieter but Cameron ducked into a small alcove, dotted with a few tables, that muffled the sound. The phone shook in her hand and she took a breath to calm herself._

_"Hey hon', it's good to hear from you," she said._

_There was a pause._

_"Was that House I just heard?" he asked._

_She covered her eyes with her hand._

_"Yeah," she forced nonchalance into her tone, "I'm here with him and Wilson at a bar. You know that's the best part about attending these things."_

_"So you ditched me to get drunk?"_

_She sighed, all attempts to be civil dissolving like smoke._

_"You know I did this for Cuddy."_

_"Yeah, I know. Some favor you just couldn't POSSIBLY say no. Can't you choose what you want just once?"_

_She sat down on an iron chair and rested her forearms on her thighs, phone still cradled next to her ear._

_"What do you want, Robert? Why did you call?"_

_She heard a rustling that sounded like he was getting up. "I just missed you, tha'sall," he said quietly._

_"Well you've got a funny way of showing it."_

_"Well so do you. You haven't called the whole time you've been there."_

_She winced._

_"It's been a hectic conference."_

_"It must be, since House hasn't been to a single conference and neither have you."_

_"Have you been checking up on me?"_

_"What am I supposed to do since you won't tell me."_

_"Here's a radical thought, how 'bout you ask ME what's going on instead of going to everyone else."_

_She sighed again, trying to push out her anger along with the air. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be with them. They were friends. Not great friends but at least friendly. She wanted that back._

_"I didn't call because I figured we could both use a break from each other. We haven't exactly been warm and fuzzy lately," she said._

_She heard more rustling and envisioned him climbing inside their bed--his bed with the sheets she picked out and the mattress she ordered. The light turned down low on her side so she could read without disturbing him._

_"I know, I know." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just--when you picked up the phone, I heard your voice cut off and it sounded like you were kissing someone else and I just got mad, couldn't see straight. I'm sorry. Probably imagining things."_

_And there it was. The out. She saw it plainly, hovering on the phone line between them just waiting for her to take it. Just agree and head back inside. Agree and continue the lie._

_Silence._

_"I knew it," he said._

_"Robert--"_

_"No, NO, this is why you didn't want to get married, isn't it? Not your dead husband or some other bullshit." His breathing sounded harsh on the phone. "How long?" he asked._

_"Please don't--"_

_"Have you been fucking him this whole time?"_

_"No."_

_"THEN WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING!"_

_Cameron pulled the phone away, his pain stabbing into her eardrum._

_"You know what?" He laughed, a bitter sound tinged with tears. "I don't want to know."_

_CLICK._

_She stared at her screen, END CALL blinking back at her. She knew she should call him back but something made her hesitate. She wished she hadn't sprung it on him over the phone. She wished she had less to drink, more time to think, or even just enough feeling to say "I'm sorry," and have him feel it. But it was out of her hands. So she slipped the phone back inside her pocket and headed back inside the bar._

House was slipping off his shirt and she wanted to cry. Unlike Chase, House demanded total honesty and she knew if she didn't come clean soon about what she told Chase, she was going to lose House. But the words caught in her throat, fear crippled her vocal chords. She tried to lose her self in the sensation of them.

It didn't work.

A tear melted into the pillow as he slid inside her, rocking with a gentleness she never dreamed she'd experience with him.

"I'm here," he whispered. "I love you. I'm here," he repeated over and over all the way up until they climaxed but for Cameron the warmth left her hollow.

House was not a forgiving man and she could not live with a lie.

She turned in his arms, resting her cheek on his collar bone. _This is how we'll end._

*La Rosa Bonita--The Pretty Rose

* * *

Thank you all for being patient with me. I didn't plan on taking a small hiatus but I also didn't plan on NaNoWriMo to take over my life either. Still, (SPOILER ALERT: STOP READING NOW) in light of Jennifer Morrison's exit from the show, I feel it's my duty to finish this story for you guys. I look around and there is so little House/Cameron fanfic, and I wonder if I am having trouble getting my Hameron fix then what the hell am I doing letting a perfectly good story sit stagnant on my computer. So again, thanks for sticking with me and yes, I promise you I will finish this story and please have faith. It's always darkest before the dawn.


	18. I'm Losing You

Disclaimer: Nothing funny this time. Just writing for fun. Don't own the characters or anything affiliated with the House M.D. show and their group of scary lawyers. Please don't sue, it's hard out here for a fanfic writer.

Chapter 18 I'm Losing You

Cameron stood on the balcony overlooking the River walk and stared at the sky. It was still twilight with a few stray clouds dusted pink underneath. Restaurants that served breakfast had employees outside sweeping their patch of sidewalk, some waved when they noticed her. She tried to smile back but the motion hurt, so she grimaced and hoped it passed. She was high enough that it did.

A breeze blew and she pulled her robe tighter, when a set of black doors, identical to hers, opened to her left.

Wilson yawned and scratched his crotch as he walked to the railing. Cameron snickered and he turned towards the sound, flushing when he saw her.

"So," he looked around awkwardly. "There's no way we could pretend you didn't just see that, is there?"

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'm used to it." She nodded towards her room. Wilson smiled gratefully.

"So uh--you and House have a good night?" Wilson said, half a statement and half an question.

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, like you and uh--"

"Lily, I think. I really should've thought to ask after the eighth shot," he said. He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "What are you doing up this early?"

She shrugged and glanced over her shoulder at the open doors behind her. "Could you meet me in the lobby in ten minutes?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

She paused in front of the doors. "Just meet me downstairs."

~*~*~*~

After meeting in the lobby, they left the hotel and arrived at the same square Cameron found House dancing. Tables dotted the former dance floor as a few patrons caught an early breakfast. Cameron chose a table furthest from everyone and plopped down into a chair closest to the edge. She turned and noticed the river lightly slapped against the cement sides.

"Ahhh," Wilson said, easing into his chair.

A waitress came over and Wilson ordered coffees. Cameron fidgeted under Wilson's scrutiny.

"I told House I broke up with Chase," she said.

"That's great news." Cameron studied her nails. "Right?"

"It would be if we actually broke up, we just had a fight. I never got around to the 'I'm leaving you' part."

"Why?"

She tucked a strand behind her ear. "I don't know. It just--" She shook her head, looking down. "I don't know."

"Do you want it to be over?" he asked. "With House, I mean."

"No!" Heads turned towards them and she lowered her voice. "No, no, I want...I wish I had never settled for Chase to begin with."

"That's probably something Chase should never hear," Wilson muttered. "But if you want my advice, you need to make this official. As in, 'We're over and I'm coming to get my stuff next Tuesday.'"

"I know, I know," she said. "He told me he loved me last night. House did, after I told him...about Chase" She shifted in her seat, crossed and re-crossed her legs. "I still don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking 'Oh my God, she chose me," he chuckled. "Out of all the people in the world, she chose me and--" he gazed past Cameron, his eyes vacant. "I've gotta seize this with both hands.'" He turned back to Cameron and shook his head, embarrassed. "And that was an obvious reference to Amber and how I'm not over her...sorry," he added, glancing up at Cameron and down at his hands.

She turned towards the river, running the fabric of House's shirt between her fingers.

"It's ok," she waved the comment off. "I know what you were trying to say."

"He's not as fragile as you think," he said.

"Our relationship is," she said.

Wilson nodded. He traced the iron vine patterns on the table with his finger.

"Better he hear it from you than someone else," he said.

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

"No one does," he sighed, spotting the waitress. "Yet we all inevitably do."

The waitress set their cups down without a word and stepped away quietly.

"You know I should charge you for all these 'sessions' we keep having," he said.

"Sure," she replied, taking a sip. "Just as soon as I send you my bill as well."

He laughed.

"I guess we're two of kind, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're both attracted to impossible relationships that have a one in a million chance of working."

"No, that's not it."

"Oh really?"

"I think," she covered her mouth and stared off. "I think we're attracted to real people and real people don't make easy relationships."

He sat back, a little in shock before breaking into a grin. "Wow," he linked his fingers over his stomach. "I think our little Cam-Cam has finally grown up."

"Shut up," she said.

* * *

Cameron crept into the room just as the sun peeked through the curtains. She held the door handle, releasing it slowly as the door closed.

"Cheating on me already?"

She turned around slowly and found House sitting on the bed, fully clothed and lacing up a pair of light brown converse.

"I went for a walk," she said, straightening her spine and dropping her arms to hide her racing heart.

"Alone?" he asked. His eyes focused on his laces.

"No," she said. "With Wilson."

"Ok," he said and turned to the other shoe.

The silence constricted in her chest until she squeaked out, "I'm going to go pack," and darted into her room. She closed the door that separated them and leaned against it, shutting her eyes tight until she saw spots.

_Way to look innocent,_ she told herself.

She shook her head and headed to her suitcase where it still lay on the bed. She noticed for the first time that all the clothes she packed were useless. She had only removed one pair of jeans and one shirt, stealing House's shirts whenever they decided to surface for air. Shaking her head again, she gathered some clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

On the other side of the door, House tapped his knee rhythmically as he tried to figure out the reason for Cameron's mood change.

He knew something was wrong when she slipped out of bed so early and just stood on the balcony. A trait, she joked, that she stole from him. He'd watched her outline through the curtains, saw her head turn and assumed it was Wilson, watched her lips move but couldn't figure out the words through the curtain. It wasn't that he thought she actually was cheating, he knew Cameron was not that frivolous with her affection, he just couldn't figure out what he did wrong that would send her running to Wilson to figure it out. He had opened himself up in ways that he flat out refused before. Even for Stacy.

He leaned back against the bed, keeping his feet planted on the floor while staring at the ceiling. The rushing water from her bathroom faded into background noise while his thoughts pinged back and forth.

_Does she love me?_

_Is this wise?_

_Should she move in?_

_Did I overwhelm her?_

_Did I say something?_

Frustrated, he grabbed a pillow and covered his face, groaning into it and letting his arms flop to his sides.

The door creaked and he heard a smothered giggle to his left.

"There are easier ways to off yourself, you know."

The bed dipped as she straddled his thighs, crawling up until she tossed the pillow and tucked her face into his neck, stretched out on top of him. He splayed his palms on the small of back, rubbing alternating circles with his fingertips.

"Wasn't trying to off myself," he said.

"I hope not. You haven't put me in your will yet."

Her chuckle ghosted across his neck, tickling slightly.

"Was that a crack about my age? You're no spring chicken either," he said.

"Ouch," she replied.

He smiled against her forehead but his suspicions nibbled at him.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, craning his neck to look at her.

She shook her head as she realized he didn't mean his joke. "No," she said. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been different," he said.

"I've been," she paused and turned towards his chest. "I've been nervous about going back."

"Why?"

"Here," she chewed her bottom lip, "we work. I don't know if we'll work once the outside world comes in."

"I don't know either," he said quietly. "I just know I don't care."

She smiled against his throat. "You never care."

"Yes I do," he said.

He reached up and ran his fingers over her damp hair, lulling her while she snuck her arms under his shirt, caressing his sides. He pressed a kiss to her temple and drifted off.

* * *

Author's Note: Sooooooo I know I've got some explaining to do. Let me start by apologizing for the delay. I finished my novel for National Novel Writing Month, then pulled a muscle in both forearms which put me out of commission for a month. Not saying this for sympathy, just want you all to know I'm not the type of writer who abandon's stories. The story is close to being finished so I will be posting the chapters every week or two as I edit them. Thank you for your patience and sticking with story. I appreciate it. ^_^


	19. I Hate This Part

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Characters and all things House M.D. belong to FOX and other associated parties.

Chapter 19 I Hate This Part

This is how they end.

A warm hand that slid from hers as they stepped through the airport gate. She glanced up at House, confused, but he walked ahead, then slowed like that was his plan to begin with. She saw him nod to someone holding a sign...and Chase nodded back.

She forced herself forward, each footfall digging into the carpet as Chase held the "Welcome Home" sign higher and smiled above it. She stepped into his hug but searched her peripheral vision for House, eventually finding him by a pole, a cold expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed.

He shook his head, turned and walked away.

She shut her eyes from his hunched figure and buried a sob in Chase's shoulder.

"Shhh," Chase murmured. "I'm sorry too, babe. I truly am."

She stood outside her apartment door while Chase put together whatever surprise he had planned. The sounds of dishes clanging drifted under the door but her thoughts were on House. She imagined him in his apartment, sans beer but remote in hand and her feet in his lap. On the ride over, she discretely txted him but he still hadn't txted back. She checked her phone again. Nothing but the time.

The slipped her phone back into her pocket just as the door opened.

"Surprise!" He swept his arm back, revealing her living room flickering with candles. She stepped in and her mouth parted at the sheer number of candles placed around the room. Candles on her tables, on the window sills with the drapes pulled back, lining her shelves that she hasn't filled with books and finally two candelabras standing proud in the middle of her dining table.

"Chase," she said, half sigh, half whisper but he held up his hands.

"I know," he nodded, "I know it's a bit much and probably cheesy but I just wanted to show I'm willing to try." He stepped closer to the table and pulled out her chair. "Have a seat and I'll bring out dinner."

Numbly, she walked forward and sat down. He rubbed his hand down her arm before disappearing into her kitchen.

Her leg vibrated, jerking her from her thoughts and she whipped her phone out.

_Stop. H_

She groaned and shut her eyes. Few people, once booted, were ever let back into his inner circle again. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and tapped her foot, anxious to get this over with.

Chase came back with a platter of fish in one hand and platter of steamed vegetables in the other. Her favorite foods. She smiled but it felt more like a tightening at the corners of her mouth.

A stray thread from the tablecloth niggled at her. She twirled it around her finger, prepared to rip it until the design jumped out as his mother's. He told her he promised not to bring the tablecloth out until he was married. A steaming plate set in front her interrupted her thoughts.

"Well tuck in, tell me how it is," he said and sat down in the seat next to her.

She separated a piece of fish with her fork and tentatively took a bite. She nodded. "It's good," she said and took another bite.

He smiled, picking up his silverware and slicing up the fish. "Good, 'cause I was hoping I could convince you not to leave me."

The fish turned to slimy in her throat but she swallowed anyway.

"What makes you think that I'm leaving you?" she asked. She took a gulp of wine. So did he.

"That's what you've been so conflicted about these past few weeks isn't it? Whether to leave me? Or was it a matter of when?" He chewed, like his words were normal dinner talk. His tone light but ringing hollow.

"Chase--I"

"Who is he?" He gently laid down his silverware and stared at the candelabra in front on him.

Her mind raced through thousands of excuses, thousands of replies but they all fell away leaving one.

"It's House," she said and her shoulders sagged. "It's always been House."

Chase nodded. "Is he better than me? is that it?"

Cameron pushed her plate away. "That is so not even the issue here."

"I just want to know," he leaned back in his chair. "Is he better than me?"

Cameron stepped away from the table and sought refuge by living room window. She hugged herself. "No, it's different."

"Different how? Better?"

"No," she sighed. "Just different, okay?"

"How?" He crossed his arms.

She picked at the curtain and blew out a candle that was too close. "He's just present," she said, twirling some fringe around her finger. "In the moment."

"And I'm not."

"Not usually."

"You think I'm thinking of someone else?"

"I think you think of yourself."

Chase snorted. "Oh that's priceless coming from you." His lips set in a grim line. "How long?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation," she muttered.

"How long?" he said, his voice harder.

"A couple weeks." She put her back on the wall.

"Did you ever do it here?"

"Why do you need to know this?"

"Just be honest." he pleaded. She shook her head and headed for the kitchen. "Did you--" he began.

"Yes!" She went to the fridge.

"Where?"

"By the...on the...the door." She grabbed a beer and popped the top.

"Where else?"

"Just there."

"When?" he asked.

"A couple days before I left for San Antonio," she said.

Chase frowned while she crossed her arms and took bracing pulls on her drink.

"That was his bike parked off the side, wasn't it," he asked, his head tilted to the side.

"Yes."

"Why?" He moved in front of her and leaned on the table. "How could--how does a person do this?"

"I don't know," she moved to step away but he grabbed her biceps.

"This doesn't just happen Cameron, you don't slip into an affair like you fall down the steps."

Tears built in her eyes and she turned her head to the side.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked like he knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"You know that already."

"No I don't. Do. You. Love. Me?" his voice cracked on the last word. "Did you ever love me?"

She faced him, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Once."

He dropped his arms, defeated, and stepped back. "Okay." He let out a cold laugh. "Okay. Thank you," he said, "for your honesty."

A siren wailed in the distance, then stopped.

"I'll be gone all day tomorrow," he sniffed and wiped his eyes. "I want your stuff out of my place and I want you to leave the key under the mat."

"Okay."

They stared at each other a moment longer and Chase abruptly left the room and headed for her bedroom. She covered her chin and stared at floor while listening to the sounds of him rummaging around. In her mind, she catalogued all that he was taking. His socks, which she kept separate from hers, same as his toothbrush, his clothes, his scrubs. She told him it was so she didn't get mixed up but she knew it was so it wouldn't take long to remove his presence from her place, should they ever break up.

It didn't. He came out into the living room with a box she was meaning to throw away. His clothes thrown together and spilling over the top.

"If I missed anything, have the front desk page me," he said quietly. He walked to the door then stopped.

"Goodbye," he said and pulled the door open.

She found herself staring at the spot he stood in long after he was gone. When she came out of her stupor, the light in the room had faded and she was sitting in total darkness. She stumbled towards her keys and slipped out the door.

"If it's Wilson come in. If it's my ex-employee, go away."

"Greg, it's me."

She was met with silence.

"Go away," he said, hollow and flat.

"No."

More silence.

She looked around and saw he got rid of the plant he normally stored his spare key under. She stepped back and saw a mat that was never there. He usually only kept an inside mat. She lifted it up but nothing was there. Too easy, she thought. She stepped back further, scanning the doorway and anything surrounding the porch until she found...nothing.

She sat down heavily and held her forehead looking to the side. Her eyes caught a rock under a shrub. There was nothing off about a rock, there were others around it but she couldn't stop staring at it. It was beige with a two thin parallel stripes on it. She closed her hand around it and bounced it to see its weight. Then she moved to put it back but a glint caught her eye. She set the rock to the side and saw a key pressed into the dirt. She lifted it up and smiled.

His living room was dark save a tall, skinny lamp pointed towards the floor near the piano. But he wasn't there. She looked on the couch but it was empty as well. The hum of his fridge droned on, heightening her senses.

She put a toe forward when his voice made her jump.

"I take it 'go away' was too confusing," he said. He stood in the hallway leading to his bedroom, the darkness hiding his face.

"I had to see you," she said.

"You've seen me," he said. "Now leave."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Okay."

"We broke up," she paused. "For real this time."

"Okay," and he let the word hang.

She took a step closer. "I can call the cops," he said.

She assumed he glared at her. "Of course you would."

"I--" she shook her head and turned. "I'm going," she said.

"Good," he said.

She opened the door, throwing the light from the street lamps into the room and showing his face. His expression was flat but his eyes were hard.

She suppressed a flinch. "But I'm not giving up."

He snorted and turned around. She closed the door and jogged down the steps. A part of her wondered if fighting for House was the best move. She knew once he came to a decision he was impossible to move. Yet as she turned her face to the sky and remembered all that had happened over the past weeks, she knew she wasn't ready to let go. Not yet. And he needed to know that, even if he never forgave her.

She started walking when movement caught her eye. The drapes swayed slightly even though his window was shut.

She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and tucked her head down against the wind. The street lamps loomed over her as she trudged to her car. The thought of going to her empty apartment made her reach for her phone.

"Information, how can I help you?"

"I need the phone number for a hotel..."


	20. Breaking My Own Heart

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. House M.D. characters belong to FOX and all associated parties.

Chapter 20 Breaking My Own Heart

_Three weeks later..._

Silence was a rare thing to find in an E. R., but that's what greeted House as he limped through the hallway. He dug his thumb deep into his thigh, wondering if he should slow down but anger wouldn't let him. The nerve of her...

He spotted her blond ponytail and stalked closer. She was facing Emergency sliding doors with her back to him, busy writing in what he assumed was some patient's chart. She didn't turn when he arrived beside her but she jumped when he plunked the toy truck down on the desk in front of her.

"This is taking pathetic to a whole new level-even for you," he said by her ear. He ignored that she still shivered at his voice.

However, she still didn't turn to face him. She glanced the truck and then kept writing in the file, even stepping back in his space like she was the invader, not him. He sidestepped around horseshoe desk and put the counter between then.

"Stop. Sending. Gifts," he said.

"No," she replied, still writing.

In a blink, he reached over and slammed her file down on the desk with his palm.

"I'm serious."

She gently laid down her pen and slipped her hand over his. "So am I."

For a moment, looking into her eyes, he felt like he was back in San Antonio and nothing had changed. His hand itched to turn hers over and thread their fingers together like he used to, but he jerked it back and let it dangle by his side. He hated that he still remembered.

"You know I can get a restraining order. Three weeks of unwanted gifts and attention still equals stalking," he said.

"Then why haven't you already?"

He froze.

"I know the police aren't exactly fond of you but there's plenty of lawyers here that could have done it for you. One word to Cuddy or Wilson and I would have to officially be fifty feet from you and yet you still accepted my gifts," she said, a small smirk on her lips.

"I wouldn't call putting a noose around a teddy bear and hanging it in the clinic as accepting your gifts," he said. "In fact, in some cultures you'd have to leave town by sundown."

"You miss me," she said and he glared. "As much as I miss you."

"I see too many failed relationships have addled your brain. Wilson can help you there," he turned to leave. "I've gotta go see a man about a restraining order."

She came around the counter and grabbed his sleeve, jerking him back until he stopped and looked at her. He turned his gaze down at the thin fingers grasping the fabric, remembering how they felt in his hair, on his thigh, or even resting on his arm. Damn her. Damn her. Damn her.

"We work," she said. "Despite my hang ups and your airplane hanger of baggage, we work and somewhere deep down you know that. I know you remember that." He didn't move away so she dropped her hand but she stepped closer so only he would hear her words. "I'm-"

"Dr. Cameron!"

She leaned to the side and he saw a mousy female intern waving from a telephone.

"Highway pile-up, two burn victims, ten minutes out."

"Grab Jackson and get suited up," Cameron ordered. The intern smiled.

"I gotta go," she said and briefly touched his forearm before stepping away.

"Cameron!"

She stopped and turned.

"I'll tell Chase," he said. "Everything, and I mean blow by blow."

"Don't," she said, her lips set in a firm line.

A guy with stitches in his brow leaned past his partition before a nurse jerked him back.

"Dr. Cameron!"

"I know, just a second," she said, torn.

She stepped closer to House.

"You can't-"

He cut her off. "What I can't do is my job if you keep sending me gifts and distracting my team."

"So your team is who I'm distracting."

He tried to keep his face blank but he wasn't so sure she couldn't read him.

"Of course," he said.

"You're not as cruel as you'd like to think."

"And I'm not as sappy as you'd like to believe. We had incredible sex. Get. Over it."

They heard the sirens and she turned to leave but he grabbed her sleeve.

"Are you going to quit?" he asked.

She shook her head and smiled.

House nodded. He turned and started walking. He debated which lawyer was the nicest when he noticed the phone was unattended at the main desk. It wasn't unheard of but it was definitely a window of opportunity. Could he? There would be no turning back if he did. Yet, that was precisely what he wanted, wasn't it? Dreading her daily gifts was worse than waking up without her because there was no way to escape her, no way for time to dull his memory.

Decision made, he walked over to the phone and plucked up the receiver. He searched a moment for the PA system button before remembering it was always red. He pushed down on the red square in the upper right corner of the board and took a breath.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen. My name is Dr. Gregory House and I've been having an affair with Dr. Allison Cameron right under Dr. Chase's nose. Sometimes, literally. Thank you for your time and have a nice day."

If that didn't work, he was going to have to buy one hell of a gift basket for the lawyers.

He turned towards the automatic doors, a smug smile curling his lips until he saw her expression. He expected shock, incredulity, even anger but her glassy eyes made his chest clench. She stared at him with her lips pressed into a pained grimace. The ambulance arrived and she swiped at her cheeks and grabbed the first gurney.

He put down the phone while the rest of the staff stared at him in shock, and he trudged past them all wondering if this is what too far looked like. An endless lineup of tight lips and glassy eyes.

_Four hours later..._

His pager buzzed on his hip and he unclipped it and threw it on the couch without checking it. Not only did he know who it was, he had even perfected not answering. Until 13 pushed into his office, annoyed.

"Not everyone who pages you is Cuddy," she said and crossed her arms.

"There's a phone too. Got 'em all over the place, I hear."

"Our medical clearance has been revoked."

"What do you mean?"

"Taub, Foreman, and I can't run any tests for an indefinite period and since we didn't do anything, we assumed it was you." She eyed House's pager on the couch and leaned down to pick it up.

"So please answer her pages so we can do our jobs," she said and threw it towards him.

He caught it in his cupped hands in his lap.

"Cuddy!" House barked and strode into her office.

Cuddy shut her eyes tightly and sighed before turning back to the papers on the desk in front of her.

"Answering your pages finally."

"Well preventing my team from healing people is a showstopper."

She signed a document with a flourish before turning it over. "You're suspended."

"You're not serious," he said. "I have a patient-"

"That Foreman is more than capable of handling."

"Are you willing to bet a human life on that?"

She looked up. "I am," she said and turned back to her pages. "I've let you get away with a lot of reckless things but jeopardizing an employee's job by airing your dirty laundry is not one of them."

"You're just mad because I left you for Cameron."

Silence. She dropped her pen and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"No House, but thank you for that humiliating fact."

"It wasn't an age thing, by the way," he added. Part joke yet partially a need to honest. "I just-"

"I don't wanna know."

"But-"

SLAM! The wood reverberated under her hands. "I don't want to know," she said, enunciating each word. She recovered and smoothed down her hair and skirt, a mask of propriety sliding across her face again.

"You're suspended for an indefinite time period, without pay, until I figure out how to deal with this new mess you've made.

House became unsure that if he said another word, he may very well be fired. She looked mad enough.

"Cuddy-"

She held up a hand, "Don't. There are limits House, even with me."

He clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

"I'm going to need your badge."

His eyes widened but he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, limping over and dropping it on the papers she was reading.

"Be off the premises in thirty minutes," was the last thing he heard before he was out the door.

After hanging out at the nearest bar until nightfall, House walked up to his doorstep and found a medium-sized envelope leaning against it. "Fuck," he whispered. He tucked it under his arm as he opened the door and threw the envelope on the couch with all his other things.

He knew who it was from, and he dreaded it even more after their altercation. His brain came up with crazy scenarios, one after the other of how now instead of gifts tied to memories, she would be sending anthrax or legionnaires disease-coated cards. Not that he was paranoid or anything.

He took off his shoes and fixed himself a drink from a scotch bottle conveniently left on the piano, but his eyes kept drifting back to the couch. The enveloped beckoned him but he was determined to ignore it. He watched TV, played a few songs on his piano and his guitar but nothing worked. Finally he gave in and plucked it off the couch.

He sat down, took a breath and peeled back the lip. At first, he only saw black fabric inside, but he gave the envelope a slight shake and heard other things clanging around as well.

He took another peek, then decided to pour the contents across his coffee table. The black fabric turned out to be a black T-shirt and the jingly stuff was an extra set of keys he'd forgotten he had, along with pictures they'd taken in San Antonio and a post card she'd gotten with his picture as the stamp. He sifted through the items with a flood of sadness creeping through his body like cold fog.

And he knew there would be no more gifts to greet him on his desk anymore.

Author's Note: I know many of you have been wondering what happened to this story. Did I abandon it by the side of the road? The answer is no, I have not. Some major life events have cropped up that put me in a tailspin but I made a deal with you dear readers. I promised with the first chapter that if you followed me on this ride that I would finish and I will. So far there are maybe a couple chapters left and now that I've gone back to college, I can't promise an exact date of postings, but being insanely busy has taught me that you make time for the things you love and I love this story.

For all of you that have stuck with me this far, you have no idea how much I appreciate it and I hope you continue to stick around. Thank you from the bottom of my Hameron-shipping heart ^_^


	21. You Could Be Happy

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. You know the schpiel.

Chapter 21 You Could Be Happy

He found her.

Threatening Wilson didn't work like it normally would've but after a couple days he had her hotel, room number, and her schedule making his P.I. worth every penny. House checked his watch. She was supposed to be getting coffee in the hotel's coffee shop/bar. The wood-paneled room gave off a luxurious feel without being in your face about it. A nice hotel. More than likely within her budget. He sat in the corner hiding behind a newspaper like some bad jealous boyfriend cliché waiting for her. Only she didn't come alone.

Heart thumping, he watched that smarmy bastard slink behind her, pulling out her stool and ordering a drink. Alcohol for him, coffee for her. Cameron was sitting with Mr. TB himself, Sebastian Charles, and House felt his stomach slowly sink into his shoes. He wanted to get out, throw a drink in that prick's face, maybe land a punch or two and shake her senseless for subjecting him to having to watch her with ANOTHER guy. But her legs are crossed. In fact, she's wearing jeans and a blazer and her body is facing him but her arms are planted like barriers over her body, even though she's smiling. She's not into him. _Is this a date?_ He's not bold enough to ask.

McBastard has his legs splayed wide, gesturing with his hands, leaning in a little closer than is appropriate. Cameron, however, leans back every time he does. Sebastian reaches down for his briefcase, pulling out a stack of papers and handing them to Cameron as she's nodding. He points out certain sections of the document but he doesn't hand her a pen. She sets the document on the bar and finishes her coffee, clearly ending the meeting. When she stands, Sebastian looks hopeful but her smile is merely polite. House watches her pass right in front him, eyes forward and turns to see Sebastian order another drink.

"Still trying to poach my employees," House said, taking Cameron's seat.

"She's not your employee anymore House," Sebastian said. "She hasn't been for awhile, from what I hear."

"Your hearing's never been particulary stellar though. Must be the TB."

"That you refused to diagnose—"

"Because that wasn't the underlying cause which," House paused for effect, "I already proved and saved your life. You owe me."

Sebastian sighed, taking a sip, thinking better of it and taking a gulp. "Lay it on me. What insane request do you have now."

"What were you and Cameron talking about?"

"You know, your possessiveness over her is a little past professional, did you know that?"

House glared.

Sebastian shook his head. "That's none of your business."

"And what is your business, by the way?"

"TB," Sebastian said. "Same as always."

"And where are we conducting said business these days."

Sebastian paused, his brow furrowed. "Guatemala, Peru, Mexico, Arizona, Texas—"

"And which one are you sending Cameron too?"

Sebastian smiled, chuckling to himself as understanding dawned on him. "You're going to have to ask her."

"I'm asking you."

Sebastian stood up, downed his drink and picked up his briefcase. "Sucks to be treated like everyone else, doesn't it?"

House snorted. "How would you know, Prince of privilege and white guilt."

"My thoughts exactly, House," Sebastian stood close enough for House to feel his breath. "How would you know about anything as normal as respect. You don't have any."

And he left before House could deliver a comeback.

"C'mon Cameron. I can hear your bleeding heart from here."

Cameron sighed, staring at the tv, her suitcases still zipped up by the couch she was sprawled across.

"Cameron!"

She reached for her phone and tapped out a quick text:

_go away_ _–C_

She heard his phone buzz on the other side of the door.

"_Really_? You're breaking up with me through text message?"

He began to tap his cane against the door. Tap…tap…tap…tap. Increasing in intensity until she knew someone was going to call security. Frustrated, she unlocked the door, twisting the knob and letting it swing open a little, then returned to the couch. She heard him push his way in, the step-thump of his walk, but she didn't turn from the tv.

"I'm not breaking up with you. I'm respecting your wishes," she said. "Now say your piece and then leave." She turned her head towards him.

"Are you really going to go work for that praise-whore?" House asked, still standing in the entrance to the living room.

"You could learn something from him."

"Like what," House crossed in front of her and plopped down on the couch. "How to exploit other's suffering so I feel better about myself."

"Because causing it is much more fun."

Silence.

Groaning, Cameron swung her legs to the floor, dropping her elbows on her knees and digging the heels of her palms into her eyes.

"What do you want, House?" she asked, weary. "And don't say it's me 'cause that's a lie."

He thumped his cane against the floor.

"That's what a thought," she said with a sigh. "Please. Just. Go."

After a moment. "I can't," he said.

She turned her head towards him and the sharp 'why' was written all over her face. He looked at the floor, the t.v., anything but her.

He didn't know why. Control freak tendencies, perhaps? A sadistic complex? He wasn't breast-fed as a child? Dammit, he didn't know where the self-destructive bastard in him came from.

"I just needed space," he admitted.

"And now you have tons of it."

_What if I don't want it?_ he thought.

God, she was hurt. He could read in the tightness of her shoulders, her need to appear nonchalant while hiding the glassiness of her eyes.

He reached out, tentatively, to touch her arm and she jerked back as if burned.

"Don't," she ground out.

She got up suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing to the door. She held it open and stood next to it, staring at the ground.

"When do you leave?" he asked.

"Tomorrow."

He hid a grimace with a nod, and stood gingerly. "You going to keep your phone with you?"

She shook her head. He nodded again.

"Ok," he said and brushed by her when he felt her hand on his arm.

"I was trying to apologize, with the gifts and all, and," she took a deep breath. "I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"Sounds like textbook you," he said. "I already knew that part."

But it hurt. More than he ever thought possible to get off the plane and see that wombat holding a welcome home sign.

"I broke up with him that night," she said.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Before he lost his nerve, he turned towards her, leaning in close and pressed his lips to her forehead. She leaned into him, turning slightly and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

He left before her eyes could watch him go.

Author's Note: For all you lovely patient people, THANK YOU! College (and drama) kind of sucked up my world but it bugged me leaving House and Cameron so open ended. As promised, I intend to finish this story and hopefully will set up my own livejournal at the end of this month.


	22. Hide & Seek

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, y'all know the drill.

Chapter 22 Hide and Seek

The first few days, Cameron heard nothing from House and she was able to take a sigh of relief. Her work in California wasn't easy, but the more meds she got to people, the better she felt about the all the others she was saving from the same fate. Sebastian was also in town but she rarely saw him. Work, as usual, was a useful excuse.

She wasn't ready to date. She knew this. She was past the point of lying to herself about a great many things.

Around 2:00am one night, after a particularly long shift and moonlighting as a trauma doctor, she crawled into an on call room that was rarely used and fell on the haphazard sheets. She didn't even bother to shed a few layers of clothes. She just fell into the bed, clutching the comfort of the pillow.

However, her phone buzzed.

_Apparently cheetahs are inbreeding themselves out of existence. I thought mankind was doing that already. –H_

She laughed, despite herself, and closed her phone, putting it under her pillow where she would feel it.

_Meet me for a drink? –H_

It burned to keep her eyes open. She ignored her phone and drifted for a few precious hours.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx

_It's raining here. –H_

Cameron rolled her eyes. She didn't know how but she knew he would figure out her new number eventually. His juvenile texts were increasing in frequency but not to the point of annoyance. They seemed more like friendly reminders, but she was wary of responding. She needed time. They both did. She wasn't sure if this "thing" could stand on its own without the way they initially started and all the damage in between.

Sometimes she remembered his hand slipping from hers in the airport. Other times she remembered his rare, genuine smiles slowly spreading across his face before he turned away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x

A few days later, while waiting in line for coffee, she got another txt.

_I'm off methadone. –H_

Her eyes widened. She had to be called who knows how many times until the person behind her tapped her on the shoulder.

The pain was back. _How was he dealing with the pain?_

The urge to run to him coursed through her like a moving, physical force that demanded her fingers to book a plane ticket and her feet to move towards the nearest airport.

However, she did none of these things. She sent him a picture of a cane she had saved on her phone. Then a couple packets of sugar, a thoughtful far-away gaze as she stirred her coffee and she headed home for her much needed day off.

Later, when she woke up, she texted Foreman and got an email with a full update.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx

A week passed.

She heard nothing.

Then, around midnight, the calls started. Cameron recognized the number but she didn't answer. She wasn't ready and she knew it. He must have known it too. But every other night or so, no matter where she was or even if she was asleep, she would turn and stare at his number. Not bold enough to hit "ignore" or brave enough to hit "answer," but she didn't tamp her urge to look at his number and wonder what would happen if she did.

Weeks went on this way.

Then one night, when the rain was hard and the body count was too high for one shift, she did answer. At first, all she heard was breathing.

"What do you want House?"

A pause. "How's the rain?"

She snorted, then fell into giggles. Of course he would call with something so mundane.

"Please," she laughed to herself. "Please just get to the point so I can get some sleep."

Another pause. She listened to his soft breath, imagined seeing the rise and fall of his chest. Was he in bed? At his piano?

"I'm serious, how's the rain?" he asked. "I'm wondering if I should risk getting my spankin' new cane wet."

"Nice try, House," she said. Of course he was trying to get her to give up her location. Didn't mean she was going to make it easy.

They fell into silence again and she knew she should just hang up and go to bed. She could. It wasn't that hard, but the sound of his voice soothed her. She found herself moving to lie on the couch with the phone resting on her ear. She closed her eyes.

"A lot of people died today," she said quietly.

"I hear that's been going on for quite some time," he said.

_But not on my shift_, she thought.

She took the moonlighting gig to keep her skills sharp and to give her something that drowned out the voices in her head telling her to go back, to talk things out, to hear what he had to say.

But he would never say what she needed to hear.

She listened to his breathing until she heard a faint, _goodnight_, and the phone clicked off.

House stared at her apartment window, the rain blurring the light but he knew which window was hers. Against his better judgment, he put the car in gear and drove back to the airport.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx

"So you flew out there, got a rental, booked a hotel room just to stare at her window in the rain and then turn around," Wilson rattled off over the coffee he had bought. "I knew you were sentimental but not sparkly vampire sentimental."

House glared but sipped his coffee. He was an idiot. He knows this. Everyone knows this. He'd be damned if he was going to admit to Wilson's smug face though.

The sun was casting a glare into the room as it sank closer to the horizon. No patients. No clinic. All in all, a good day, but he decided to take a couple days and quit texting her.

And it drove him nuts.

He had harassed six nurses, played three pranks on Cuddy and almost landed into another lawsuit when a child kicked his cane and he whacked the kid back. Again, a good day by House standards.

"I'm going to regret offering something so lame but have you thought about having an honest conversation with her?"

House snorted and turned his gaze out the window briefly.

"Of course not," Wilson said to himself. "Talking is waaaaay too simple for you. Hey, how about you check her twitter?"

House turned to the ball in his hands and twisted it between his palms.

_She won't talk to me_, House wanted to say but instead turned his chair towards the window. He heard Wilson get up and move towards the door, but he paused.

"You're suit's going to be waiting here next week. Don't be late," Wilson said.

House raised his hand, gave a slight wave and went back to tossing his tennis ball lightly between his hands.

He thought of her. He mentally flipped through all the things he had yet to do to bring her back. The sun fell lower and he tossed the ball away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx

_a few weeks later…_

House ripped off his tie the minute he stepped into the crisp night. One more banal comment, one more lame attempt at small talk and he was going to bash a champagne glass against someone's skull for entertainment. He power-limped to the edge and hurled his tie over the side. The wind cradled it on the way down until it landed on some fancy philanthropist whose name he couldn't remember. The person looked up, stunned and probably pissed, and House waved back. Then he turned, leaning his back against the wall and covered his eyes with his hand.

Spring was coming. The wind was surprisingly soft and the night was cool with a tinge of frost to it. House rested his cane against the wall and rubbed his temples trying to sooth a withdrawal headache.

"Need some help?"

And there she was, leaning on the same wall several feet away in a slinky black dress and another man's tux jacket. Yet she wore bright red lipstick.

"Allison."

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Author's Note: FOUND IT! A loophole in these nasty uploading rules on here is what I mean. Thank you all for being so patient. Finals are coming up so I'll be M.I.A. again for a few more weeks but expect a wrap-up for this story as a christmas present. Again, thank you all for reading and I'm glad you're still enjoying the ride.


	23. Don't You Remember

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything else to do with the show. Just having my wicked way with them.

Chapter 23 Don't You Remember

_Previously_

And there she was, leaning on the same wall several feet away in a slinky black dress and another man's tux jacket. Yet she wore bright red lipstick.

"Allison."

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"Allison."

She smiled nervously, tugging the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

He had a thousand snarky comments, even a few cutting ones that would let her know exactly how he felt. Instead, he just stood there.

"How have you been," she asked, taking a few steps closer.

"Fine," he said. "No hookers and no smack. A ringing endorsement for the 12-Step Program."

His hands itched for the small bottle of pills in his pocket. He crossed his arms instead.

"How's California with TB Boy Wonder?" he asked.

Her eyes widened. Then she laughed softly to herself. "Your P.I. is good," she said. "And California is fine."

"And TB Boy?"

"As far as I know, he's fine. I don't make a habit of dating my bosses."

Something in him loosened and House's shoulders sagged. She stepped closer until he could smell her perfume. He noted the precision of her makeup, the goose bumps along her neck, but he avoided looking in her eyes.

"Greg—"she began.

"Don't."

"House," she amended, "How have you been?" she paused. "Really?"

_How do you think?_ he wanted to say but he couldn't seem to get his mouth to form the words. How had he been? Obsessing about her, missing her, and now having her in front of him and unable to broach what needed to crossed.

"You look beautiful," he said, and hesitantly reached out and smoothed a strand behind her ear. She leaned into his palm but he pulled away and stuck his hand into his pocket.

"Thank you," she said.

She sighed suddenly and turned towards the courtyard, leaning her forearms on the stone edge. Lights twinkled around the city, shapes moved across windows as they blocked the light and Cameron watched them as House watched Cameron.

"Is this it?" she asked.

He scooted next to her until their sides were barely touching, and mimicked her posture.

"I don't know," he said. It was the closest to honesty that he could manage.

"Is it really _that_ hard to tell me that you're sorry?"

_Can't you tell?_

He clasped his hands, suddenly fascinated with his palms. Her hand covered his.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For lying about Chase, for—"she sighed, "all of it. I'm sorry for all of it."

He paused, his chest tight and slowly, so slowly, he opened his hands and took hers between his.

"I'm not sorry," he said, not daring to look up as he spoke. "I'm not sorry for all of it."

Her hand clenched.

"My life is in…well all over the place now," she said quietly. "And your life is here."

The wind picked up a little and blew her hair back. She turned to him, her hip against the cold stone and with her freed hand, threaded her fingers through his long stubble and into his hair. Then, suddenly, she dropped her hand.

He nodded, looking away. "This is it, then." But whether he meant it as a statement or a question, not even House could confirm. Cameron nodded.

House stepped closer, moving Cameron to face him and leaned down. She put a hand on his chest and closed her eyes tight.

"Don't," she said. "You—"she broke off and picked at some stray lint on his lapel. He didn't release her, his hands tight around her waist. "Will never change," she continued. "And I can't stop myself from," she looked up, into his eyes, "wanting more from you."

For once, House made himself keep meeting her eyes.

"Ok," he said.

"Just ok?"

"Yeah, ok," he said again. And he kissed her before she could say anything else.

He knew she meant to shove him away. But the moment his tongue swiped over hers, she was lost, clutching his lapels and dragging him closer. This kiss wasn't about sex. This kiss was about need, about connection and House asserting the fact that it was never going to go away. It would always be this way between them, no matter where they were.

He pulled away suddenly, gasping faint clouds in the chilly air.

"That's the best I can do," he said, and he looked down slightly ashamed. "I can't promise," he paused, "any more than that."

She bit her lip still tasting whatever fizzy drink he was drinking besides the champagne. And she closed her eyes, flattening her hands on his chest.

She stepped back, out of his arms. "You have to meet me halfway."

She turned and power-walked to the rooftop door and left him standing there, his arms holding nothing but air.

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Get out of here. Move. Now. She chanted the words over and over to herself as she handed Sebastian back his jacket, as she made her goodbyes to Cuddy and Wilson, as she power-walked out into the night, her heels slightly throwing off her balance. She broke out into the night, realizing she forgot her jacket but too scared to turn around.

She almost did it. She almost caved. Cameron mentally slapped herself for coming so close.

And she knew she should hail a cab before it was too late but she just stood there, breathing thick puffs into the air. She hugged herself when her phone buzzed in her clutch.

_Turn around. –H_

_No_, she thought. _No more_.

Her phone buzzed again. _Turn around and look up. –H_

The roof.

She craned her head upward and something dark was floating down. His jacket. She caught it and put it around her shoulders, smiling to herself.

Her phone buzzed. _Wait –H_.

A cab rolled by and slowed down. She held up her hand but hesitated. She could wait and she could leave, go, and find another place and another man that isn't so complicated.

She waved the cab on, smiling in apology. He honked but she stood there, her back to the hospital and stared at the street lamps twinkling all over the city.

And she waited.

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The shades were shut but lamplight pushed through the edges. On the bed, slashes of light fell on the blue comforter. She turned and Cameron came face to face with House's chest. She threaded her fingers through his chest. He groaned in his sleep.

It must be late still.

House's arm tightened around her waist and she let it, sinking deeper into the covers. She didn't feel like she had made a mistake. A little unsure but she was calm for the first time.

When she walked into his apartment and mentioned the distance between their jobs again, House tossed her his phone and told her to book a flight.

"What about Cuddy?" she had asked.

He'd shrugged. "She could use the break and so could I."

What would he do?

He shrugged again, pulling off his clothes and dropping them wear he stood. He didn't shout for her to follow. But she did.

Yet when she reached the doorway, he had pulled the sheets back on her side of the bed. Staggering slightly, he opened a couple drawers and began transferring some of his things as if it was routine, something they had already talked about and agreed on.

"This is halfway?" she asked.

He grunted as he stood and nodded. "This is halfway."

"I'm not moving back," she said and crossed her arms.

"I'm not moving—wherever the hell you're living these days."

"California."

"Pretty boy city, whatever."

He grabbed his cane off of the mirror and limped over to the bed. He plopped down, taking off his watch and setting his alarm. She followed and began stripping off her clothes. First, her earrings, then her watch, and finally everything else. It felt normal and odd and comfortable and surreal, but this was halfway. Here, in House's bed watching occasionally car lights drift past before she has to get a plane, here is halfway.

"Go to sleep," he grumbled.

"I can sleep on the plane," she said.

He leaned down, putting his lips next to her cheek instead of her ear.

"Go to sleep," he muttered and tightened his arms.

But Cameron's eyes were still open, still looking over his shoulder waiting for the sunrise.

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Author's Note: Thank you all for sticking with this story and those that are new, thank you for reading as well. I'd been warned about WIPs and I definitely learned my lesson. In future, only finished stories posted in a weekly fashion. I'm thinking of moving away from onto to other sites. When the epilogue is posted, there'll be links to the new sites. Thanks again for your support, your reviews, and your time. ^_^


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